


Septiplier One Shots

by angelheartbeat



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alcoholism, Angst, Apologies, Character Death, Colours, Committing Suicide, Criminal AU, Criminal/Police, Criminal/Police AU, Cute, Death, Feels, Feelsy, Fluff, Grief, Gum - Freeform, Hair, Hallucinations, Hickeys, Letter, Letters, Love Bites, Love Letters, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Smut, Mourning, Oneshot, Plane Crash, Poetry, Police, Police AU, Sadness, Septiplier - Freeform, Singing, Songs, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Teacher AU, You Are My Sunshine, Youtuber - Freeform, colour soulmate au, criminal, love letter, prank, prank fail, septicplier - Freeform, soulmate, suicide note
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 43,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Septiplier oneshots,  because why not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Few Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo. ... I was bored, and people seemed to like Rollercoaster, so I decided to write more fluffy oneshot, I guess

Jack lay on his bed, throwing his cap in the air and catching it again. He wasn't thinking about what he was doing, it was just absent minded nonsense as he thought about other things.  
Namely, Mark.  
The two hadn't spoken for a few weeks, and Jack was missing the blue-haired guy he was best friends with. But, they were both busy with their own stuff.  
Still... he couldn't help himself. The name, the face, the body... he rid himself of that thought before he began to fantasise about the American's muscles.  
Truth was, he had liked the guy for a while now. He stayed with his girlfriend because he didn't want to breaK her heart. Signe was a good person, and didn't deserve that. But every time Mark was mentioned, he couldn't help himself going on a spiel about him, and he thought Signe suspected something.  
Sighing, he got up and turned on his computer, checking for new videos. There was a new one from Mark, funnily enough. Smiling, he clicked on it and felt his heart melt once again as he heard the deep voice of his crush. He was playing some game Jack wasn't focusing on, his eyes only looking at the face cam. He giggled like a little kid every time the blue-haired guy made a joke. It was near the end of the video, and Jack gently put his hand up on the screen, touching the face of the man he loved, wishing it was the real one and not just a picture. He had paused the video and was just sitting there, looking at the smile in front of him and losing himself in the brown eyes, when he heard someone walking past his room and pausing by his open door. Looking up, he turned a bright red as he saw Signe standing there. Desperately, he turned off his computer as he realised he had just been staring longingly at a video of Mark Fischbach, and his girlfriend had seen him.  
"You like him, don't you?" Signe said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.  
"N..y...n...no..." Jack spluttered, looking around, panicked.  
"It's fine," She laughed, shrugging. "I've suspected it for a while now."  
"I...it's fine?" Jack asked, shocked.  
"Yeah. I know you'd be happier with him. That's cool, if you like him, you go for him. You know I care about you enough to let you be with who you want, right?" She replied, grinning. "Besides, we can still be friends, right?"  
Jack smiled at her, tears filling his eyes. She giggled and continued walking, leaving Jack to think things over.

\-----(timeskip)-----

Mark was shocked when he opened the door and saw Jack standing there awkwardly twisting his hands together.  
"Jack? What are you doing here?" He asked, amazed. Jack looked at his feet.  
"I needed to talk to you..." He whispered, not looking at Mark.  
"You could have Skyped me, ya silly." Mark said, laughing. "But come in, I guess." Jack followed him into his house and shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself fiddling awkwardly with anything.  
"Can.. can we talk privately?" Jack asked, not quite believing he was about to do this.  
"Sure..." Mark said, noticing Jack's weird behaviour. "Come into my room, I guess..." He walked into his room, with Jack behind him, biting his lip. They sat down on the bed and Mark began talking.  
"So, Jack, what was so important that you flew to America to tell me?" Jack took a deep breath and summoned his courage.  
"I know we haven't spoken in a few weeks, but the time apart has made me realise something. I've been watching your videos, and I've started to realise... I think.." Jack took another deep breath and squeried his eyes shut. "I think I might be in love with you."  
Silence.  
"And... and I wondered if you felt the same! That's all I want to know! I just want to know if you like me!"  
Nothing from Mark. Jack took a third deep breath.  
"Mark Fischbach... do you love me?"  
There was just more silence.  
He looked up, and Mark was staring at him, shock written in ever feature of his face. As he saw Jack look up at him, he bit his lip and stood up. The American walked out of the room and left Jack sitting there, a single tear running down his cheek.

I guess that's my answer, he thought, curling up into a ball and beginning to cry.


	2. Can't Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack can't sleep while he's staying at Mark's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH SO THE THING HAPPENED AGAIN
> 
> THE REFRESH THING
> 
> ONLY THIS TIME IT WAS ON MY PHONE AND IT WAS BECAUSE I WENT ON OTHER APPS WHILE TYPING
> 
> GODAMMIT WHEN WILL I LEARN TnT

Jack couldn't sleep.  
Tossing and turning had done nothing for him, simply messed up his hair. He had tried everything. Counting sheep, relaxing, tiring himself out by reading the comments on his newest video, everything. And he was still as awake as ever. Sighing, he dragged himself out of bed and slipped on a T-shirt, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself and started walking down the corridor, looking for the right door.

Mark was in the middle of editing his newest video. Glancing at the clock, which read 1:34am, he realised he should probably get some sleep. But there was so much to edit, and he had social media to check, and he couldn't afford to waste time sleeping. His body said otherwise, though, letting out a massive yawn. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and returned to his editing, trying not to let himself fall asleep. The editing was going well, and he was just getting into the last few bits, when he heard a soft knock on his door, and it opened slowly.  
"Jack?" Mark asked as he saw the Irishman peeking round the door into his room. Jack sheepishly opened up the door fully and stood there, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  
"Uh... hey... Mark..." Jack said, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "I... um... Well, I can't sleep." Mark raised an eyebrow. He thought he had an idea of where this was going.  
"So... I... I was wondering... I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight!" Jack suddenly blurted out, his cheeks darkening and going red. Mark hid a smirk, and Jack realised what he had said.  
"Not like that! Just... you know... be in your bed... with you... so I'm not alone..." the Irishman said, looking at the floor. Mark nodded and smiled.  
"Sure. I'm almost done with this editing anyway. Go and get comfy, I guess." He smiled and returned to his computer.  
Jack bit his lip and walked towards Mark's bed, snuggling under the duvet and hiding his smile. He buried his face in the blankets and breathed in the smell of Mark. The Irishman curled up in a ball and listened to Mark edit, hearing clips from his videos over and over. The sweet smell of Mark's duvet and the soft sound of his voice made Jack sleepier and sleepier, until eventually he closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep.  
After about twenty minutes, Mark began shuffling around, and the light from the computer disappeared. The American came over and slid under the duvet, seeming to have forgotten Jack was there. That meant he got a massive shock when he felt the younger man roll over and wrap his arms around him.  
"Jack?" He whispered. "You.. uh... awake?" There was no reply. He was about to remove Jack's arms from his neck when he heard Jack begin sleeptalking. It was quiet, and it was only a couple of words, but what he heard made Mark's eyes widen.  
"M...mark..."Jack said, pressing his face into Mark's shoulder. "Yer... yer pretty..." Mark stared over at Jack, his eyes wide and his breathing fast. Had... had he just heard that? Was this happening? Was Seán William McLoughlin dreaming about him?  
With a small smile, Mark rolled over and put his arm around Jack too.  
"You're not too bad yourself, Jackaroony," Mark whispered, and was surprised when he saw Jack smile ever so slightly in his sleep.  
They fell asleep like that, cradled in each others arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you all enjoyed some Septiplier fluff X3
> 
> Sorry it sucks, it's late and I'm kinda sick so I can't exactly do much
> 
> I might make a Part 2, about the morning after, but idk. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! :)
> 
> P.S. I hope I got Jack's name right :3


	3. Can't Sleep ~Part 2~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Jack found himself staying in Mark's bed to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had an idea for this that I thought might work. 
> 
> Again, it is late and I am kinda sick, so cut me some slack please <3
> 
> I DO NOT KNOW MARKS ROOMMATES WELL ENOUGH TO HAVE THEM IN THE STORY. IF YOU KNOW THEM AND THEIR PERSONALITIES AND CHANNELS PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS. Then I can check them out and they can be in future stories.

Jack sighed and looked around the empty kitchen, wondering where Mark's roommates had disappeared to. It was unusually quiet as he sipped on his coffee and thought about the morning.  
He had woken up cuddled close against Mark, their arms wrapped around each other and their foreheads touching. Quickly and as carefully as he could, Jack had unwound himself from Mark and gotten up, being very cautious to not wake up the older man. Needing a coffee, he had tiptoed to the kitchen, and here he stood. Mulling it over in his brain, and trying to remember what had happened last night.  
Suddenly, he heard someone walk into the kitchen. He whipped around and saw Mark, padding into the room with his blue hair messy and his eyes half shut.  
"M...m...morning... Jack..." He said, his words distorted with a yawn. All of a sudden, his eyes snapped open and he got an evil smirk on his face.  
"M..mark?" Jack asked, his mind racing. Did Mark remember? What did he remember? Had Jack said something to let slip his massive crush? It must have shown in his face, because Mark chuckled softly and walked over.  
"So.. Sean," Mark whispered into his ear, and Jack shivered. The combination of Mark's deep, sleepy morning voice and his real name was too much, and he almost dropped his coffee.  
"What is it, Mark?" He asked, taking a small step away from Mark before he did something he'd regret.  
"It's... it's good to know you think I'm pretty." A devilish smirk appeared on Mark's face as he watched Jack's reaction. This time he really did drop his coffee. The mug fell to the floor and smashed into a thousand pieces, spilling the remains of the drink across the floor as well. Jack's face turned bright red, and he began stuttering.  
"O..oh... my... god... M..mark... I'm. .. I'm so s...sorry... I just... what ya.... ya said... I just... I can't... I wouldn't... I... uh..." He trailed off as Mark shook his head. The American simply walked to a drawer and pulled out a cleaning rag before mopping up the coffee and picking up the shards of ceramic. He dropped them in the bin and the rag in the sink before returning to Jack, who was standing by the wall. He put a hand on either side of Jack's face, effectively pinning him to the wall and keeping up his smirk.  
"Where was I...?" He asked, more to himself than Jack. "So... you think I'm pretty, Sean?" Jack turned even redder, if that was possible, and slid down the wall a little bit.   
"Mark.... I... was asleep... I wasn't... uh... thinking things through, exactly..." The Irishman was about to continue, but was interrupted.  
"I must say... you're not too bad yourself." Mark looked at Jack, and quirked an eyebrow. The two stared at each other for a long while, before Jack gave in. In one swift move, he grabbed Mark's face and pulled them together, mashing his lips against the American's. After what seemed like an eternity, they broke apart, and stared at each other for a long, long time.   
"Mark... I.. I gotta say it. I love ya, Mark. I have done fer years, and I bet I will do fer a lot more. I just... never really found a good time to tell ya." Jack began. "I just... thought ya might reject me, ya know? Heh... now I say it, it sounds sil-" He was cut off by Mark grabbing him and pushing their lips together again, but this time the kiss was gentle, and sweet, and loving, instead of violent and harsh like the first time.   
"I thought you'd never like me back." Mark whispered, his eyes full of love. The two of them both smiled and shut their eyes as they came together for a third kiss, full of love and understanding, and so many missed opportunities to love each other before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was... uh.... weird.
> 
> It's late. I'm sick. I know the writing sucks, especially the dialogue, but I honestly can't be bothered to write it better. I might rewrite it better on my computer (I'm currently on my phone which hates Ao3 so I apologise for any spelling mistakes, I'm usually very good) but idk.
> 
> Anyway, I was just bored and I couldn't sleep, so this is a thing, I guess. It's not much, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated, and I love you guys! <3


	4. Oh, What The Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack promises to come to LA because Mark isn't acting like himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by an amazing edit by the wonderful @color.me.youtube on Instagram! I recommend you check them out, they do lots of recolourings and stuff, and I really like their work. X3
> 
> Also I apologise for any feels. It's 12:37am. Send help.

**Fuck... Fuck... Fuck....**

Mark sat on his bed with his arms wrapped around himself and his eyes wide. Tearstains ran down his face and he couldn't think straight. Thousands of thoughts were rushing around his head, destroying any sense of wellbeing he had left. There was nothing left. Nothing except pain. 

There was a quiet knock on his bedroom door, and he gulped, wiped his tears away, and got up, taking deep breaths. Opening the door slowly, he saw Ryan standing there.

"Hey man," Ryan said, noticing Mark's lost expression. "We were just gonna go hang out at the mall or something, I dunno. You wanna come?" 

Mark shook his head.

"No. I'm fine here. Thanks. I'll see you when you get back." Ryan opened his mouth to say something and it dropped open even more when Mark closed the door in his face. With a small sigh, he turned around and began walking back down the hall to let the others know Mark wasn't coming. 

Meanwhile, Mark was curled up in a tight ball on his bed, hyperventilating and trying not to start crying again. Before he could descend into full-on panic, his phone buzzed. With a slight frown, he picked it up and checked the screen. It was a message from Jack.

_J: hey man, what's up?_

Mark sighed deeply and tapped out a response.

_M: not much why_

_J: idk I was thinking of coming over_

_M: why there's no cons or anything_

_J: and? Can't I visit my frirnds?_

_J: friends*_

The blue-haired Youtuber put his phone down and let it buzz for a few minutes until it finally stopped. The thoughts that had been cleared from his head rushed back as soon as he stopped talking to Jack. With a slight frown, Mark picked up his phone again.

_J: Mark?_

_J: Hello?_

_J: listen, I'm coming over_

_J: Mark?_

_J: Mark you'd better reply_

_J: Mark you always reply_

_J: are you OK?_

_J: you'd tell me if you left_

_J: what's wrong?_

_J: Mark Edward Fischbach you reply right now_

_J: seriously Mark you always reply straight away_

_J: I'm buying tickets to LA_

_J: I need to see you_

_J: please be okay_

Mark smiled slightly at his friends persistence and slowly typed out a response.

_M: I'm okay, really. You don't have to come over._

_J: I call BS. I'm buying tickets_

_M: don't worry Jack I'm fine_

_J: too late_

_J: I'm getting the next flight_

_J: I'll be there soon_

_J: I hope_

_J: Mark?_

_M: Ok._

_M: be safe_

_J: hang on_

_M: maybe you're right_

_M: I do need to talk to you_

_J: well ok then_

_J: ya doof :)_

Mark smiled at the last text and was about to put his phone down when a call came through. He frowned at the screen when he saw Jack's name, but picked up anyway. 

"Jack? I thought you were heading over here?"

"Yeah, but ya needed ta talk ta me, ya doof."

"Where are you?"

"Still at home, packing. Why?"

"I just wondered. That's all. Listen, Jack, you don't have to come over here if you don't wanna."

"But I do, I wanna see ya."

"Don't make a special trip just for me, ok?"

"I will if I want, ya silly."

"I'm worried about you, though."

"Why? Ya know me, I'm always careful!"

"Suuuuure."

"Anyway, I gotta pack. Can ya pick me up at the airport? I should be there at 6 if my flights all okay."

"I'll be there, don't worry."

"Thanks. I love ya, Markimoo."

"Love you too, Jackaboi."

There was a click, and the line went dead. Mark held on to the phone for a while, trying not to let the thoughts come back to him. The sound of Sean's voice made everything okay somehow, and he glanced at the clock to count down the hours to 6 o clock. 

\-----(timeskip)-----

Mark waited at the airport for three hours, checking Jack's texts. He had texted him after the phone call with terminal information etc. and Mark had showed up bang on schedule. The airport was emptying out, only a few late night flights arriving and leaving and only a couple of sleepy passengers passing through. With a sigh of realisation that Jack had prank ed him, that he wasn't showing up at all, he got up and headed back to the car. His mind was swirling with dark thoughts.

\-----(timeskip again)-----

The next morning, Mark wandered downstairs with his hair sticking up and his eyes full of sleepy dust. The newspaper was open on the kitchen table, although they barely read it. This morning, an article caught his eye.

** FLIGHT FROM IRELAND TO LA CRASHES **

The American's eyes widened and he started frantically reading the paper.

_In a devastating turn yesterday, a flight heading from Ireland to LA crashed in the ocean. The media is reporting this as the worst crash in almost a decade, with no survivors whatsoever. Everyone on the plane was lost to the ocean, and search parties have been able to find no one in the water nearby, save for bodies._

Mark's heart went cold.

_Among the hundreds of people lost was a famous YouTuber by the name of JackSepticEye. His fans mourned his loss on social media this morning, among the many others that lost their lives to the catastrophic event._

Mark didn't bother reading the rest. His heart felt empty and destroyed. His whole world had been ripped apart and torn to pieces. Nothing would ever be the same again. Darkness flooded his mind and he dropped to the floor on his knees, the paper slipping through his fingers. He dropped his head into his hands and wept, crying tears that felt like they would never stop. He didn't bother to wipe them away, letting them fall freely onto himself and the floor. His heart felt like it had been wrenched from his chest and stamped on in the dust, and he wanted to die a thousand times over. Nothing would ever be right again. He felt like he would never smile again, or laugh, because that one light in his life, the one thing keeping him sane, was gone.

And he just couldn't handle that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JESUS THIS GOT WAY SAD WAY FAST OH SHIT I'M SORRY GUYS IT'S 1:15AM I'M CRYING AND DEAD WHY DID I WRITE THIS THIS WAS SO HARD TO WRITE OMFG


	5. Oh, What The Hell ~Part 2~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the last one, and I have an idea for this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy!

It had been a week.

Mark still couldn't bring himself to do anything except lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling. Life seemed pointless now. Jack wasn't there any more. He was gone. Dead. Never to be heard from again.

The pain was too much for Mark. He cried himself to sleep every night, and mumbled Jack's name in his dreams. His days were haunted by memories of the Irishman and dark thoughts, whispering mentions of suicide and death to him.

He felt... selfish, almost. Like he was making this about him when it was meant to be about Jack.

He hadn't even shown up to the funeral. He couldn't face it.

As he lay there, though, staring upwards into space, a stab of guilt ran through him. Jack floated into his mind, and he realised that moping wasn't a part of Jack's vocabulary. Seeing Mark now... it would just make him think Mark had given up. And he hadn't. At least, he hoped he hadn't. 

Slowly, Mark got up from his bed and walked over to his computer. He sat down and wiped the tears from his face, before powering up the PC and logging on. Hesitating, he clicked on the Internet and then went to his channel. The place was full of people talking worriedly about where Mark was, asking why he wasn't there. Even more hesitantly, he typed in Jack's name. On his channel a video had been uploaded, about a week ago. A few hours before his flight left. Bracing himself, Mark clicked on the video and put on his headphones.

"Top of tha mornin' to ya laddies! My name is Jacksepticeye, and this is just a quick vlog to let all of ya know I'm going away for a little while! I'm visiting Mark, over in LA, so I won't be back fer a few days. I have some videos recorded, but my upload schedule might be off. Don't worry! It'll all be back to normal soon! I won't be out there fer long, and then I'll be back, same old Jackabo-"

Mark cut the video off there. He couldn't stand to hear any more. In those few seconds alone, tears had begun streaming down his face again. Sniffing, he rolled backwards on his char and set up his camera.  _No point in clearing my face if I'm just gonna start crying again,_ he thought, and pressed record.

"Hello everybody. My name is Markiplier. This is a very hard video for me to record. A-about a week ago, one of m-my close f-friends, Jack, b-better known as Jacks-septiceye... was c-coming to v-visit m-me." He paused to wipe his nose and face. "H-He never m-made it. T-the p-plane h-he was o-on..." Mark let his voice trail off. He couldn't finish this.

Turning off the camera and standing up, he glanced around at his room. An uneaten meal was on his bedside table, having replaced the one before it, and the one before that, and that, and so on. He had barely eaten anything in a week. His roommates were worried for him. Everyone was worried for him.

All of a sudden, he was overcome by an overwhelming urge to scream. He fell to his knees and grabbed at his heart, tears streaming from his face. Looking up, he saw Jack walking towards him, holding out his hand, still with that goofy grin on his face.

"J-Jack!" Mark cried out, reaching for his hand. The Irishman smiled and knelt down beside the American. No words passed from his mouth.

"Jack, I... I missed you so much. You have no idea, I.. I need you so badly, I didn't know how much you meant to me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Mark sobbed. He tried to collapse into Jack's open arms, but fell to the floor instead, hitting his head against the hard wood. As he looked up, disoriented, he realised Jack had gone. No. He realised Jack had never been there all along. He was gone. 

Mark pulled himself into a tight ball and cried, and stayed like that for the rest of the day.

 

\-----(timeskip)-----

 

The next day, Mark didn't move from his position. He didn't flinch if someone entered, like he had before. He didn't even get up to get a drink. He knew that if he looked up, he would be haunted by images of Jack, of the one he had lost, of the one he needed so desperately.

The amount of pain he felt was overwhelming. It felt like it was consuming him, destroying him from the inside out. Tearing him apart at the seams. Ripping his very being to bits. Guilt and pain and fear washed over him in tidal waves bigger than he could even hope to stop. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could to to stop it. His emotions were too great and too powerful for him to conquer.

He just wanted - no,  _needed_ \- Jack back. That was all he asked for. Just to see that smile in person one more time. Just to hear that laugh, that voice, that endearing accent in person, not just a recording. It made him feel alive, happy. Made him feel complete. Whole. Like he had a gaping hole in his heart, and it felt like Jack filled it up.

But he knew he could never have that feeling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oopsie, more feels. There will be a part 3 of this! I know that for certain! However, I may publish other oneshots in between then and now. Watch this space. C:
> 
> I should just rename this fic to Angsty Septiplier Shit
> 
> SSS ♡


	6. Oh, What The Hell ~ALTERNATE ENDING~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the same as Oh, What The Hell ~Part 1~ but it has a different ending (one that isn't so feelsy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my original plan for Oh, What The Hell but I liked the feels better. However, I gotta do something to mend your broken hearts :P
> 
> It's all the same apart from the ending, so skip there if you don't wanna read the same shit again X3
> 
> Also: I'm really fuckin sick at the moment so you're lucky you're getting this XD

**Fuck... Fuck... Fuck....**

Mark sat on his bed with his arms wrapped around himself and his eyes wide. Tearstains ran down his face and he couldn't think straight. Thousands of thoughts were rushing around his head, destroying any sense of wellbeing he had left. There was nothing left. Nothing except pain. 

There was a quiet knock on his bedroom door, and he gulped, wiped his tears away, and got up, taking deep breaths. Opening the door slowly, he saw Ryan standing there.

"Hey man," Ryan said, noticing Mark's lost expression. "We were just gonna go hang out at the mall or something, I dunno. You wanna come?" 

Mark shook his head.

"No. I'm fine here. Thanks. I'll see you when you get back." Ryan opened his mouth to say something and it dropped open even more when Mark closed the door in his face. With a small sigh, he turned around and began walking back down the hall to let the others know Mark wasn't coming. 

Meanwhile, Mark was curled up in a tight ball on his bed, hyperventilating and trying not to start crying again. Before he could descend into full-on panic, his phone buzzed. With a slight frown, he picked it up and checked the screen. It was a message from Jack.

_J: hey man, what's up?_

Mark sighed deeply and tapped out a response.

_M: not much why_

_J: idk I was thinking of coming over_

_M: why there's no cons or anything_

_J: and? Can't I visit my frirnds?_

_J: friends*_

The blue-haired Youtuber put his phone down and let it buzz for a few minutes until it finally stopped. The thoughts that had been cleared from his head rushed back as soon as he stopped talking to Jack. With a slight frown, Mark picked up his phone again.

_J: Mark?_

_J: Hello?_

_J: listen, I'm coming over_

_J: Mark?_

_J: Mark you'd better reply_

_J: Mark you always reply_

_J: are you OK?_

_J: you'd tell me if you left_

_J: what's wrong?_

_J: Mark Edward Fischbach you reply right now_

_J: seriously Mark you always reply straight away_

_J: I'm buying tickets to LA_

_J: I need to see you_

_J: please be okay_

Mark smiled slightly at his friends persistence and slowly typed out a response.

_M: I'm okay, really. You don't have to come over._

_J: I call BS. I'm buying tickets_

_M: don't worry Jack I'm fine_

_J: too late_

_J: I'm getting the next flight_

_J: I'll be there soon_

_J: I hope_

_J: Mark?_

_M: Ok._

_M: be safe_

_J: hang on_

_M: maybe you're right_

_M: I do need to talk to you_

_J: well ok then_

_J: ya doof :)_

Mark smiled at the last text and was about to put his phone down when a call came through. He frowned at the screen when he saw Jack's name, but picked up anyway. 

"Jack? I thought you were heading over here?"

"Yeah, but ya needed ta talk ta me, ya doof."

"Where are you?"

"Still at home, packing. Why?"

"I just wondered. That's all. Listen, Jack, you don't have to come over here if you don't wanna."

"But I do, I wanna see ya."

"Don't make a special trip just for me, ok?"

"I will if I want, ya silly."

"I'm worried about you, though."

"Why? Ya know me, I'm always careful!"

"Suuuuure."

"Anyway, I gotta pack. Can ya pick me up at the airport? I should be there at 6 if my flights all okay."

"I'll be there, don't worry."

"Thanks. I love ya, Markimoo."

"Love you too, Jackaboi."

There was a click, and the line went dead. Mark held on to the phone for a while, trying not to let the thoughts come back to him. The sound of Sean's voice made everything okay somehow, and he glanced at the clock to count down the hours to 6 o clock.

\----(timeskip)----

Mark sat outside the airport, glancing at the clock. An announcement echoed over the loudspeaker, that a flight was arriving, and he looked up expectantly. After a few minutes, Jack came out and saw Mark. 

"Mark!" He called out, and began dragging his suitcase towards him. With a smile growing on his face, Mark got up and ran towards Jack, wrapping his arms around the Irishman and almost knocking them both over.

"It's so good to see you," He whispered, and Jack grinned.

"It's good to see ya too, ya big doof." Mark unwrapped himself from Jack and took a step back, tears brimming in his eyes. The two of them looked at each other, both with goofy grins. It was good to be back together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, there ya go. Your non-feelsy ending. Voila.
> 
>  
> 
> UUUGH BEING SICK SUUUUUCKS


	7. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels.

_**You are my sun, Sean...** _

_**My only sun, Sean....** _

_**You make me happy...** _

_**When skies are grey...** _

_**You'll never know, Sean...** _

_**How much I love you...** _

_**So p-please don't t-take my s-sunshine a-away.** _

Mark lay on his bed, tears streaming down his face. He kept singing.

_**The other night, Sean...** _

_**As I lay sleeping...** _

_**I dreamed I held you in my arms...** _

_**When I awoke, Sean...** _

_**I was mistaken...** _

_**So I hung m-my head a-and c-cried.** _

He began singing again.

_**You are my sun, Sean...** _

_**My only sun, Sean...** _

_**You made me happy...** _

_**When skies were grey...** _

_**You were my sun, Sean...** _

_**My only sun, Sean...** _

_**But you took my sunshine away.** _

__Because Sean was gone. Mark's sun had gone. And he was never coming back.

_**You are my sun, Sean...** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C:


	8. Just a Prank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark plays a little prank on Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yknow, I should really rename this fic Angsty Septiplier Feels, because that's all it seems to be at this point. 
> 
> At least this one is happy. And is it just me or can I imagine this happening in real life? Just me? Okay. Well, judge for yourself.
> 
> In other news, thank you for over 1000 hits! It's amazing that so many people have read these feelsy things and actually enjoyed them, so thank you so much.

Jack sat at the desk, the Oculus Rift strapped to his face. He was staying at Mark's for a while, but had neglected to record a pile of videos for his channel, and so Mark was letting him use his computer. 

"Hello?" he yelled, looking around. Something ran through his vision and he fell backwards.

"Holy mother of fuck!" he screamed, almost tearing off the Oculus but managing to stop himself. "Calm down, Jack, it's just a game. Nothings gonna get ya." With a panicked sigh, he wondered if he was still in the camera, and shrugged. Maybe he could fix it later, but he needed to focus. 

The shadow flitted across his screen again and his heartbeat increased.

"Hey! Whoever ya are, come out!" he said, turning his head. Swivelling his chair, he looked around the whole room, and saw nothing. 

The second he turned back to the computer, the shadow monster jumped at him and took him by the shoulders, moving in as if to eat him. It happened in a matter of milliseconds, but it was made a thousand times worse by someone grabbing him from behind at the exact same time. 

Blindly, he spun around and smacked whoever it was dead in the face. The contact echoed around the room.

"Ow." 

Jack slowly pulled the Oculus up, only to see Mark, standing there with a camera in one hand and the other hand on his cheek.

"Oh my god, Mark, I'm sorry!" Jack said, breathing in sharply. The American took his hand away, and smiled slightly.

"It's alright... it was a dumb prank. I should be sorry." He glanced at Jack, who looked shocked. Touching his face, Mark asked what was wrong.

"Ooh... sorry... I didn't mean ta hit ya that hard..." Tilting his head, Mark looked in the mirror on the opposite wall. A bright red handprint glowed on his face, matching his freshly dyed hair. Clicking off the camera, he walked towards the mirror and pressed his fingertips against his cheek. Taking them away left white marks for a matter of seconds. 

"Heh. It's cool." Mark said, but inside he was screaming with pain. 

"Ya picked a really good time to prank me?" Jack offered in consolation, and Mark smiled weakly.

"I'm gonna go get some ice or something. Um... good luck with the rest of your video, Jack." Mark said, walking out of the room and into the kitchen. Jack spun round guiltily and pulled the Oculus back over his eyes.

Might as well finish the video. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's a little inspired by that time Marzia pranked Felix when he had the Oculus on. He didn't slap her though, luckily.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	9. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack sends Mark some letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a really good fanfic I read one time which I can't find again, but if you wrote something like this, you're awesome! Your fanfic was really good and I'm sorry for partly stealing your idea <3
> 
> It also has feels and suicide, so if you're not okay with that then stop reading right here and go read a cute fluffy fic about unicorns.

Dear Mark,

How're things? I get that I could text you, or call, but there's nothing quite like sitting down and writing an old-fashioned letter, huh? It's fun. You can get more feelings out, to be honest. It feels like you won't be judged as much, although I know that's not true. It's also weird to not use emoticons or shorten stuff. I guess my hand might start to hurt after a while.

Anyway, you're probably wondering why I'm writing to you and chattering on about random shit. I don't know, to be honest. I just... needed to talk to you without having an immediate reaction, if you get what I mean. Its weird. 

It's just... I miss you, Mark. Being away from you... it makes my heart hurt. I miss everything about you. Your little smile, your constant singing, everything. Oh, shit, I'm getting sappy and sentimental. I should just stop.

I kinda want you to reply? Would you be okay with that? I hope so. Please write back soon.

~~Love~~ From Jack

~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mark,

You didn't reply. I guess that's fine. You don't have to. It's just nice to get my feelings on paper.

I miss you, so much. The breakup broke my heart. You broke my heart.

I'm not trying to send you on a guilt trip or anything. Just trying to tell you how I feel. And how I feel is... sad, mostly. Lonely. Empty. Yes, and angry. I am angry. But that's only yo be expected, huh? 

You're probably super mad at me. I'm so sorry. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. Mark, I'm so sorry. Please believe me. I need you back. At the very least talk to me.

Please reply this time,

From Jack

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mark,

How's it going? Are you even getting these? I really hope so. It's... lonely without you. Real lonely. I miss your breathing at night, your little mutterings, your singing, your quiet little snuffling when you have a nightmare. I miss cuddling into you at night. I miss all the fun we had. I miss being us. 

I miss  _you_.

I miss you, Mark Edward Fischbach. I miss you so much that when I hear your voice I start crying. Because I had that, I had you, and I fucked it up. I messed up so bad. You could never forgive me, could you? You hate me now. I can't handle you hating me.

Please, just reply. Just once.

Jack

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mark,

Still no reply, huh? That's alright. I guess you're still busy. Or you don't want to talk, which is understandable. You're not answering any texts or calls, either, so I'm guessing it's the last one. After what I did, I don't blame you. It was all my fault.

But... I do wish you would talk. Just once. Just for old times sake. Just because I miss you, even if the feeling isn't mutual.

Life's been pretty hard to handle without you behind me. You always used to help me, in any situation. You would always be there, like a rock in a storm. The one solid thing in my life I could cling to. I guess the rock got washed away with the tide.

Or I let go.

And now I'm being swept away faster than I can swim, and I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared, Mark. I'm scared of life. I'm scared for me, and our relationship, and our friendship, and everything.

Reply. Please.

Jack.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mark,

You're ignoring me.

I need you. I need you so much. You don't understand. You helped me through so much, and now there's no one there to do that. I don't want to be ignored. This is never what I wanted.

But what did I want?

I don't know, Mark. I wanted you. I wanted us. But I loved myself too much, didn't I? I was too... fucking... selfish. I was such a selfish little shit. I didn't care one bit about anyone else, as long as I was happy. Jesus. I make myself sick. I ruined it all, I ruined everything, and I can't even imagine life without having done it.

I'm a horrible human being. I shouldn't even live. I should never have been born. My own life disgusts me. 

Maybe I should just erase myself from the world. Who would care? My fans would find someone else to care about. My friends would move on after about a month. My family would care for a while but then forget me. No one would care if I just disappeared.

Maybe I should. 

Maybe I should leave once and for all. Get rid of this worthless life. All I do is ruin lives.

Reply, for me?

Jack

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mark,

That's it. I miss you too much. I can't live like this. Hating myself, hating life, hating everyone else. I hate everything. I hate living. I hate being in love. Because I am still in love with you, Mark. I am still more in love with you than ever. And I can't handle that.

Mark. Have a good one.

I love you.

Jack.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Dear Jack,

I'm sorry.

I love you.

I wanted to reply for so long, but I couldn't find the words to tell you I love you.

I'm so fucking stupid. You're gone now, aren't you?

I'm sorry I didn't reply.

I love you.

I miss you.

I wish you were here.

Love, Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, sorry about that. We can all breathe and smile now, it's over! Yay! We can also cry! Fucking feels! Hahaha! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed regardless.
> 
> Love you!


	10. Colour To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU where everything is black and white and you see no colour until you meet your soulmate and then you see all the colours in the world. With a twist.
> 
> Inspired by a Tumblr post I saw one time. I'll be doing a lot of soulmate AUs soon so be prepared!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like soulmate AUs. Like, a lot.
> 
> This is set before Jack and Mark became friends, so yknow. There's that :P
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and I'm sorry for inactivity ^-^

Jack lay on his bed, idly turning the pages of a book. He was looking at the page, but the words weren't going into his brain. Glancing up at the grey wall, he sighed. Everything in his life was shades of grey. He would see people outside with their soulmates, holding hands and pointing out colours. Jack was certain he would never see any of that.

With a heavy sigh, he got up and sat at his desk. Powering up his computer, he shut his eyes, and wished desperately for there to be colour in his life. Opening one eye cautiously, he only saw the shades of black and white. His shoulders dropped, but he knew he shouldn't have raised his hopes. Typing in his password, he felt defeated. At least he had YouTube.

His current favourite YouTuber was one who went by the name of Markiplier. He always had such a happy smile, although he had expressly stated he hadn't found his soulmate yet. Jack felt his pain, and yet Mark always seemed so bright, so cheerful about life, despite having no colour in his eyes.

Jack could watch Mark's videos for hours. He could spend forever listening to that deep voice. He had quite the crush on the American. But, he knew they weren't destined to be together. Thinking about it made him sad. He just wished he could know what Mark's face looked like illuminated by colours. That was all.

~~~~~~~(timeskip)~~~~~~~

A few days later, Jack was browsing through YouTube out of boredom, when a message popped up on his screen. The sender made him jolt upwards in surprise.

From: Markiplier

To: Jacksepticeye

Hey!

You might not know me, but I'm a fairly OK YouTuber, I guess. I saw you around a couple of days ago, and meant to send this. Would you be interested in doing a collab with me at some point? You seem like an interesting guy, but you don't have to. Message me back if you want, OK? :)

-Mark

Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the screen again. There was no mistaking it. Markiplier had just messaged him. His YouTube crush had acknowledged that he existed. 

Pulling the keyboard towards him, he started typing frantically. After a few minutes of typing, he sat back and pressed Send contentedly.

From: Jacksepticeye

To: Markiplier

Hi!

I'd love to! I actually love your videos and I have no idea how you found me, but I would be glad to do a collab with you! Do you wanna trade Skype so we can talk more?

-Jack

Jack grinned, and returned to YouTube. Now he knew how Mark was so happy all the time, despite the world being grey. He was happy. Jack knew the world was still going to be grey, but he was happy that he could talk to his crush, even for a while.

~~~~~~~~(timeskip again, a few years this time)~~~~~~~

Mark sat in the airport, kicking his heels together. He glanced at the clock again. It had barely moved since he last looked.

"Where the hell is he...?" Mark asked himself. Suddenly, an announcement came over the speakers, and Mark's head shot up.

**The 12:45 flight from Ireland is now arriving.**

Shooting up from his seat, Mark jigged around, waiting for Jack to come off the plane. They would be meeting each other in real life for the first time, and he was excited.

Meanwhile, Jack was bursting out of his seat on the plane and running out of the aircraft. He sprinted into the terminal, earning him some dirty looks from the people around him, but he was only focused on Mark. It had always been hard looking for people in black and white, but suddenly there he was. With an excited grin, Jack ran towards him and wrapped his arms around him in a hug.

And everything burst into colour.

Looking around him in wonder, Jack gasped. Everyone and everything was so colourful. People wore entire rainbows, ranges of colour from the unknown to the crazy. Looking back at Mark, he thought he might cry. His eyes were so dark, so beautiful, and he had never dreamed of seeing them. He thought they would always be grey, just like the rest of him.

"Um, hello?" Mark laughed. "I'm glad to see you too, but can you let go of my neck?"

"Are you seeing this?" Jack breathed, glancing around in wonder. 

"Seeing what?"

Jack looked at Mark, alarmed.

"Everything! The happiness, the brightness, everything!"

"I don't see anything unusual, Jack. Just the same old grey airport, grey people, grey skies."

"But what about all the-" That's when it hit him like a bus.

Mark was his soulmate, but it was one-sided. 

He wasn't Mark's soulmate at all.

Someone else was.

Letting go of Mark hesitantly, he felt like he was releasing a lifeline. Colours still remained, but they were faded. He knew that Mark couldn't see them, that they weren't destined to be together. He had been so happy, for a few seconds, and then it was gone.

He felt his heart break, in the midst of the rainbow he could see.


	11. Silence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crash.
> 
> Song.
> 
> Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to France so there won't be any updates for about a week. I hope you enjoy these feels in the meantime! ^-^

Jack sat by the hospital bed, looking down at the man lying there. A harsh beep sounded every second or so, signalling the man's heartbeat. A tear rolled down Jack's face as he watched the man. He was sleeping, and muttering in his sleep.  
  
The man in the bed was Mark Fischbach.  
  
Jack sighed as he thought about Mark. Fear ran through his head and his vision blurred. He couldn't bear the news he had just been given. He couldn't comprehend it.  
  
Mark was dying.  
  
Jack's head dropped into his chest, and his eyes squeezed together. Tears rolled down his cheeks and fell onto his lap. He knew that months, maybe years of pain and struggle lay ahead of the two men, but he was determined to be there for Mark, whatever he needed. The crash had affected both their lives. Jack had rushed to America as soon as he could, but maybe he was too late.  
  
He sat there for hours. He sat there until a nurse had to come in and remove him from Mark's private ward. Mark never woke up. His breathing remained steady, the beep of the heart monitor unfaltering. Jack had simply sat there, watching the rise and fall of Mark's chest. Hoping that against all odds, he would survive. He began to mutter their song under his breath, praying with all his heart for Mark to make it.  
  
\-----(timeskip)-----  
  
Jack resumed his normal seat next to the bed. It had been three weeks since the crash, and Mark's condition was slowly deteriorating. The doctors believed he wouldn't make it. Jack believed he wouldn't make it. Of course, he wouldn't tell Mark that.  
  
The red - haired man was sleeping as usual. His breathing was ragged and shallow, his body shuddering with the effort. It looked like pain ran through his body with every breath. Once again, Jack sat there, wishing he could help. Wishing there was something he could do to help Mark. Their song ran through his head. It wasn't technically their song, but they had adopted it as their own.  
  
\---(timeskip)---  
  
Two months. Two months since the crash. Mark's condition had gone seriously downhill. He was in a critical condition. Jack was allowed in, one last time, as the significant other to the patient. Mark was awake. He looked at Jack, love in his eyes.  
"Hey... Jack..." He breathed, smiling. His breathing was wracked with pain, and his body jolted with every movement.  
"Mark!" Jack said, running towards the bed. He paused, his arms outstretched to hug Mark, and then slowly pulled them back in and dropped down into the seat next to the bed. Finding Mark's hand on the sheets, Jack took it in his own and held it, noticing how cold it was.  
"Jack..." Mark said, turning towards him slowly. Every movement pained the man, and every word made him fade a little more.  
"Yeah?" Jack replied, rubbing Mark's hand to warm it up. The heartbeat monitor got more and more erratic and painful sounding.  
"Will you sing... our song?" Mark whispered, pleading with his eyes. A tear ran down Jack's face as he realised Mark was dying.  
"Of course," Jack said. Memories flooded back to him as he remembered the familiar tune. Memories of singing randomly with Mark, of being held by him when he cried, of cold nights in front of the fire when one of them would simply begin singing softly.  
_"You are my sunshine..._  
_My only sunshine..._  
_You make me happy...._  
_When skies are grey..."_  
The heartbeat monitor slowed down and tears began streaming down Jack's face. Mark closed his eyes and smiled. He released his death grip on Jack's hand.  
_"You'll never know, dear..._  
_How much I love you..._  
_So please don't take-"_  
  
The monitor cut out. There was a long, flat beep.  
  
Silence.  
  
Jack looked at Mark. His eyes were closed, and he had a serene smile on his face. He seemed happy. A single tear was rolling down his cheek. Jack reached out and wiped it away, taking one last look at Mark's face.  
  
His heart broke, and his head dropped. Mark was gone.

And he never got to finish the song.

Silence.


	12. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories of Jack. 
> 
> Memories gained, memories gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was an idea I had on the way to my holiday. I wrote it in parts on my Memo thingy on my phone, and boy is it long. Well, it seems it. It ended up filling up 12 memos on my phone (character limits) so it was written in 12 parts and then put together into one massive oneshot. I did think for a while about whether to make a new story and post Memories in parts (patient, careful, lots of work to keep updated, less likely people will read it) or whether to stick it all together and bung it in the oneshots (quick, lazy, barely any work, I regularly update the oneshot thing so people will see it), so you can see which one I went for and why. I'll say more in the end notes.
> 
> Oh yeah, I'm too lazy to go through and add italics. If you see a word written like //this// just imagine it's in italics.  
> Yeah, that's about it! Toodles! Enjoy!

Brakes squealing. Tyres rubbing against the ground. The wheel spinning out of control and taking the car with it. A scream. Was it his own? A crash. Blood.  
  
Darkness.  
  
Nothing.  
  
~♡~♡~♡Jack's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
Jack flew to America as soon as he heard the news. It was all over social media. Obviously the news wouldn't cover it. It was just a car crash. They happened all the time. Just a car crash. A car crash involving Jack's best friend.  
  
Hundreds of Markiplier fans had been hanging around Jack's channel once they realised Mark wasn't there, asking constant questions about the other YouTuber. Jack was sorry to say that he knew next to nothing about the crash. He just knew Mark was in hospital, and he had to get to him.  
  
After getting a taxi from the airport, Jack found himself outside the hospital. He thrust a handful of dollars at the taxi driver and jumped out of the back seat. Almost hitting himself, he realised he had forgotten to bring anything. Not even a bunch of flowers. Would Mark even want flowers? Jack could picture him. 'Why did you bring me these? I'm hungry, ya doof!' He was always so happy. Jack hoped against hope he still was. That he wasn't- and that's where Jack stopped his train of thought. He wasn't going to go there.  
  
Tapping his foot impatiently, Jack waited at the reception desk. A bored receptionist swung her chair around and raised an eyebrow at him, chewing a load of gum.  
"Hi. I'm here ta see Mark?" Jack said nervously. Receptionists were weird.  
"Which Mark?" She said lazily, blowing a bubble with her gum.  
"Oh, right. Mark Fischbach? He was admitted after a car crash?" Jack replied cautiously. He was sure he had the right hospital.  
The woman reeled off the name of a private room, and Jack thanked her before turning to go. In a way, he was glad Mark was in a private room. It meant they could talk without anyone listening.  
  
Jabbing impatiently at the lift button for floor 3, Jack thanked his lucky stars it had been empty. He didn't know what he would do if someone had been in there. He needed time to think. Alone. And there was also the slim possibility that he would be recognised, which wouldn't be the best thing to happen.  
  
Jumping out of the lift on the third floor, Jack looked around wildly and began making his way towards Mark's room. When he was halfway there, a doctor going the opposite way grabbed his arm to stop him.  
"Excuse me asking, but who are you here to see?" The doctor said kindly.  
"I'm here ta see Mark. Mark Fischbach." Jack said, casting anxious glances towards the room. The doctor looked behind him, and bit his lip, patting Jack's arm.  
"He's in a fairly stable condition at the moment, and he's awake, so you're welcome to talk to him. Just... something big happened. You'll find out when you go in there." The doctor looked behind him again, shook his head and released his grip on Jack's arm. Frowning, Jack continued on his path, and knocked on the door.  
"Come in," came the familiar deep voice from indoors, and Jack pulled the door open and stepped inside.  
  
Mark was lying down, staring out the window next to his bed. His expression was vacant, blank. Turning towards Jack as he entered, he looked a little taken aback.  
"Mark!" Jack exclaimed when he saw him. The American had bandages all over his head and face. Teeth had been knocked out of his mouth and his nose was crooked. Jack refrained from hugging him like he normally would, and noted that his glasses were on the table next to him. Massive machines beeped and whirred, and Mark looked strangely small inside it all, his face naked without his glasses.  
"Oh, Mark," Jack said happily, smiling at the red-haired guy.  "I'm so glad yer okay." Mark frowned.  
"I'm sorry," he said, confused. "Who are you, exactly?"  
  
\--------------  
  
Jack blinked in shock when he heard Mark talk. He sounded so unsure, so scared, so un-Mark.  
"What?" He said, stunned. Mark didn't know who he was?  
"Sorry. I don't know you." Mark said firmly. Jack blinked back tears.  
"I - I'm Jack..." He said quietly. Not a single flicker of recognition on Mark's face."Sean?" Jack tried hopefully. "Sean McLoughlin? Jackaboi? Jacksepticeye? Booper Dooper? Irish leprechaun?" Again, nothing registering in Mark's brain.  
"I'm really sorry," Mark began. "I don't know you. But to be honest, I don't know who I am, either." Jack's face lit up. Maybe telling Mark about himself would bring back his memories of Jack.  
"Yer Mark. Mark Fischbach. Yer a famous YouTuber, an' yer one of tha most popular people online. Ya go by tha name Markiplier. Herb Lore? King o' tha Squirrels? King o' Five Nights at Freddy's?" Nothing seemed to be working. Mark simply tilted his head questioningly, and Jack sighed, digging his phone out of his pocket.  
   
Tapping on the screen a few times, he brought up Mark's channel on YouTube. He tapped on a random video and held the phone in front of Mark, who watched and listened intently, but not a flicker of recognition ran across his face. There was no sudden realisation of who he was. Jack could tell this wouldn't be easy. Mark was an amnesiac now.  
  
The video finished, and Jack turned off his phone. He found a small plastic chair next to the bed and sat down in it.  
"So," said Mark after an awkward silence. "Tell me more about myself." Jack scratched the back of his head awkwardly.  
"Well, ya dyed yer hair fer charity, just like I did, but ya keep changing yer hair colour. It started off pink, then ya went blue, and now it's red. I kept mine green. Yer full name is Mark Edward Fischbach, an' ya have a brother. Ya live with two other men, Ryan an' Matt. They're two of yer best friends. Ya have a lot of best friends, like Wade, an' Bob, an' Felix, an' Ken, an' m...me...." Jack took a deep breath. "Ya recently got twelve million subscribers on YouTube, an' yer known as tha 'heartthrob of YouTube'. Yer a really funny guy, an' we've done lots of collabs." Mark was nodding at appropriate moments, and there was a trace of recognition on his face. He seemed to be remembering little pieces about himself, but not a whole lot.  
"Do I have a girlfriend?" He asked randomly. "If I do, I don't want her to worry." Jack shook his head.  
"No, ya don't have one at tha moment. At least, I don't think ya do." Mark nodded, and proceeded to quiz Jack about every aspect of life. Jack replied eagerly, hoping against hope that Mark was regaining his memory.  
  
~♡~♡~♡Mark's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
I stared at the green-haired man beside my bed. He had a thick Irish accent, and open blue eyes that you could almost get lost in. His green hair was super bright, and messy. He had called himself 'Jack' and 'Sean'. Occasionally, when he said something, I would feel a flash of recognition. He was talking loudly about something, and I began to tune out. I was trying to make a list of the things I knew about myself, if 'Jack' could be trusted.  
-I was a guy named Mark.  
-I was fairly famous.  
-I was good-looking? I hadn't seen a mirror since I was admitted to the hospital, but I could assume I looked pretty shit at the moment.  
-I had a brother.  
-I had two housemates.  
-This 'Jack' was one of my closest friends.  
-I had a thing about dying my hair.  
-I did not, in fact, have a girlfriend.  
-I went by Markiplier.  
There were a few others, but I had mostly zoned out. Without meaning to, I shut my eyes, and lost consciousness.  
  
\--  
  
I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but I woke up to Jack staring intently at my face. Strands of red hair partially obscured my vision, and I blew them away impatiently. They didn't leave my face, and I got impatient, trying to move my arms. The slightest movement made my entire body scream in pain, but I was determined to get the hair out of my eyes.  
"Let me get that," Jack said, leaning over. He brushed the hair to the side, so I could see again. It felt like a strangely intimate gesture with someone who was practically a stranger. I flinched, but thanked him anyway. It was a lot comfier without the hairs in my eyes.  
  
After a couple of minutes, I realised I was staring at Jack. He was looking out of the window, and I wondered what he was thinking about.

"So, um..." I said to break the tension. "Is your name Jack or Sean? Because you mentioned both those names earlier when you were talking about yourself."  
"Well, my real name is Sean," Jack began. "But I prefer ta be called Jack." I nodded. I still wasn't entirely sure I should trust 'Jack', but he seemed like a pretty nice guy.  
  
We talked until visiting hours were over, which wasn't long, thanks to my unplanned nap. Jack smiled at me weakly and said his goodbye, hesitating as if he wanted to hug me, but decided better of it. Instead he simply gave me a smile and a little wave, before walking out of the room and closing the door. According to the doctors, I had had lots of visitors before the Irish man, but I had slept through all of their visits. Jack was the first one I had actually been awake for, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.  
  
~♡~♡~♡Jack's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
Jack shut the door behind him and leaned against it, wiping away tears. Mark couldn't remember anything. He couldn't even remember himself. How bad was that crash?  
  
Running a hand through his hair, Jack walked through the corridors and found the lift. He pressed the button, and waited for the lift to come up, thinking things through in his head. He didn't register what was happening until he was out of the hospital, his mind running on autopilot. It was only then that he realised he had nowhere to stay, and he dug his phone back out of his pocket. Running through the list of contacts, he found Ryan's name. He tapped the call button and held it to his ear, shivering. It rang and rang, until finally Ryan picked up.  
  
"Hello?"  
"Ryan!" Jack said, teeth chattering. He only had a hoodie, and it was freezing outside. Nice.  
"Oh, hey Jack! To what do I owe the pleasure?"  
"I was wonderin' if ya could pick me up? I've been visitin' Mark in tha hospital, an' I kinda need a ride ta a hotel or somethin'." There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Jack thought he might have said something to piss Ryan off.  
"Sure!" Ryan said after a while. "I'll be right over." The line clicked dead, and Jack blinked with surprise. That was abrupt. He waited outside the hospital, shivering, for about ten minutes, when a car pulled up next to him and Jack saw Ryan and Matt sitting in the front, waving at him. He pulled the back door open and slid inside, freezing cold.  
"Where's all your stuff?" Matt asked, twisting around to look at Jack.  
"I, uh, kinda forgot it. I was in a hurry ta get ta Mark, an' I kinda didn't pack anythin'." Jack didn't meet Matt's gaze, sure that it would be disapproving.  
"No problem!" Matt said cheerfully, and Jack looked up in surprise. "You can borrow Mark's shit. I'm sure he won't mind." The tension in the car increased when Mark was mentioned. He was a touchy subject.  
"Wait, does that mean I'm stayin' at yer house?" Jack asked, fully realising what Matt had said.  
"Sure!" Ryan said happily. "We'd love to have you stay over! You can stay as long as you want, if you wanted to wait for Mark to get better."  
"Yeah, about that.." Jack began. He wasn't sure if Mark's housemates knew or not. "Have ya been ta visit him yet?"  
"We have, several times, but he's always been asleep. Why do you ask?" Matt replied, frowning.  
"Well, there's a little... uh... problem." Jack looked at his feet. "He kind o'... has amnesia?"  
  
Ryan almost lost control of the car.  
"WHAT?!" Matt yelled, staring at Jack. Jack nodded silently, and Matt twisted back round to face the front.  
"Bloody hell," he whispered. "He doesn't remember us?"  
Jack shook his head, and then remembered Matt couldn't see him.  
"No. I've been explaining about him, an' you two, and YouTube. He doesn't remember a thing."  
Matt frowned, and Ryan scowled, and the two of them proceeded to ask Jack any questions they could about what Mark had been like.  
  
After a few minutes of questioning, Ryan pulled up in front of their house. The three men got out of the car, and Matt unlocked the front door, letting them in.  
"You know your way around, right?" Ryan asked, going into the kitchen. Jack nodded wordlesslyLooking at Matt, Jack shuffled his feet.  
"So should I, uh, stay in Mark's room or what?" he asked nervously. He didn't know Ryan or Matt as well as he knew Mark, so he was a little awkward around them when he wasn't there.  
"Sure," Matt said, pointing down the hall. "You know which door it is, right?" Jack nodded and walked into Mark's room. He had a lot to process.  
  
About an hour later, he emerged from Mark's room. He hadn't felt brave enough to look through Mark's stuff to find something to wear, but he had been looking around Mark's room. Everything he saw caused him pain, though, and he had ended up face-down on the bed, sleeping.  
  
Walking into the kitchen, he found Matt and Ryan with their heads together, talking in low voices. He couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, but he heard his and Mark's names. He dropped into a seat by the table, feeling self-conscious.  
"We were gonna visit Mark tomorrow, by the way," Matt said, getting up and beginning to fix himself a bowl of cereal. Jack nodded silently and stared at the table.  
"You okay?" Ryan asked, noticing Jack's silence. Again, Jack simply nodded. There was a lot of stuff going through his mind, and he needed time to think it through.  
  
\-----(timeskip)-----  
  
Three months later, Jack was still staying at Mark's house. He was a lot more open to Ryan and Matt now, and they had started playing games together. After about a week of staying in America, Jack had gotten a return flight home. He had collected up his recording equipment, his laptop, his headphones, and a suitcase full of clothes. For the first week he had been wearing Mark's things, which sparked an interesting conversation about it with the man himself.  
\--  
Mark: Hello.  
Jack: Hi! Didya miss me?  
Mark: *laughing* since I still don't know you, not particularly.  
Jack: *trying not to look disappointed* Oh. Right.  
Mark: So, uh, how are things?  
Jack: They're good. Look, do ya recognise this shirt?  
Mark: No, not really. Why?  
Jack: It's yers. I just thought ya might... never mind.  
Mark: Oh. Right. Sorry.  
*awkward silence*  
\--  
There were an awful lot of awkward silences between Jack and Mark. Ryan and Matt talked constantly, as if to try and fill the void, but Jack just couldn't think what to say. It worried him. He was usually so loud, obnoxiously so, that it put him off to have nothing to say. There was just a whole lotta nothing.  
  
The hospital were certain that Mark would be going home that week. His cuts and scrapes were all healed up, and it was just his legs and back were still fucked up. He had done something to the knee on his left leg, and the right one was broken in about a hundred places (slight exaggeration, but you get the picture). His back was just fucked up in general. Jack didn't entirely know the issue with it, but he knew Mark felt like screaming every time he moved. Apparently the hospital were giving him a wheelchair to go around in until his legs and back improved enough to upgrade to crutches, and then finally he should be able to walk properly again. He had been forced into physio for about a week, until he point-blank refused to return. Mark could be very stubborn when he wanted to be. At least he had retained that aspect of his personality. It was reassuring.  
  
~♡~♡~♡Mark's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
I stared at the house through the car window. A spark of recognition lit up my vision, and I remembered being here. Living here. I knew there was a pool, and a computer in my room - but what did the rest of the room look like? What colour were the walls? Did it have carpet? There were so many random blanks in my memory. It was terrifying that I couldn't remember simple things like the colour a wall was painted. I could barely remember my birthday. What was wrong with me? Was this normal for amnesiacs? Did their memory turn into a terrifying black hole of knowledge? Did they feel nothing when they saw people who were supposedly their friends and family? Or was I just a freak?  
  
Jack opened the car door, smiling.  
"Welcome home!" he said happily, reaching in to lift me out of the car.

I clung to his neck, suddenly insecure. Why was I such a massive baby? Suddenly, I had an urge to jump out of Jack's arms, and run into the house to explore for myself. I knew I couldn't. It would make me scream in pain, and I might black out. I might even be taken back into hospital, and I didn't want that. I didn't want to go back to those blank corridors. I didn't want to be treated like a toddler again, unable to walk or speak for myself.   
  
Jack lowered me into the wheelchair that Matt had put there ready while him and Ryan went inside. I relaxed in the comfy chair, and allowed Jack to wheel me into the house. Looking around, certain decorations sparked memories. Memories of putting the finishing touches to the rooms. Memories of pictures smashing and arguments. Memories of laughing about it a week later.  
  
Without realising, my eyes had begun to fill with tears. Memories were flooding back too quickly. It was overwhelming. It was only after Jack tapped me on the shoulder did I realise he was trying to talk to me.  
"Sorry, what?" I asked, looking up at him. He smiled and shook his head.  
"I was just askin' if ya were okay. Ya seemed a little... out o' it." I tilted my head and shrugged. I knew I had been out of it. I never seemed to quite be in it.  
  
~♡~♡~♡Jack's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
Jack wheeled Mark into his room and asked where he wanted to be sat. Mark pointed wordlessly at the computer, and Jack wheeled him over happily. After making sure Mark was comfy and happy, the Irishman began picking the remainder of his stuff up from the floor. The rest of his things were already in the guest room, where he was gonna be staying until Mark's condition improved. In a way it upset him, having to leave the room he had been in for months, but he was also glad. Glad because losing the room meant Mark was improving. Glad because he wouldn't have to face the memory of Mark every time he walked into his room. Glad he wouldn't feel guilty and naughty every time he went to sleep. Just generally glad.  
  
"Call me if ya need anythin', okay?" he said over his shoulder as he left the room. Crossing the hall, he opened the door to the guest room and dumped the pile of stuff on the bed. Sighing, he dug his camera and laptop out of his bag, and began setting it up to record a video. After a few minutes of fiddling, he had it all set up, and moved a chair in front of the camera, checking his hair was alright. With a smile, he leaned forward and clicked on the camera, before leaning back again and doing his customary high five.  
"Top o' tha mornin' to ya, laddies! My name is Jacksepticeye an' this is kind o' an odd video for me, because I'm not actually in my own house! I'm stayin' at my friend Mark's place, because there was a bit of a... problem. I know ya will have probably heard about it before, but there was a... crash. A car crash." Jack's tone was serious, and he couldn't quite bring himself to look at the camera. "Mark's goin' through a lotta shit at tha moment, so I need ta stay with him." Taking a deep breath, Jack wiped away a tear that threatened to spill down his cheek. "He... uh... well, he got amnesia. He doesn't remember who I am, who any o' his friends are, any o' it. He doesn't even remember how popular he is. So, uh, there's gonna be a change in my upload schedule. I'll be only doin' one video a day instead o' two, and they're probably gonna be pre-recorded. I, uh, don't really have tha stuff here ta record videos. And I need ta keep Mark safe. Anyway, that's all I really wanted ta say. This is kind of a tough subject fer me. Sorry." Smiling weakly at the camera, Jack scratched his neck. "I don't have the energy fer my outro today. See ya later." And with that, he leaned forward and clicked off the camera, sighing. He had been telling the truth. His energy seemed to have disappeared since the crash. Since he saw Mark for the first time after it. Since Mark forgot him.  
  
~♡~♡~♡Mark's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
I stared around me, taking in everything. It seemed familiar, but it didn't seem connected to meIt felt like I had started a new life since the crash. Like I was a new person. Someone who didn't understand life, or people, or any of the things I had supposedly enjoyed just a few months ago. I still wasn't sure if I could trust Jack, but he seemed honest, and nice, and I was starting to think we could be best friends against, despite my lack of memory. Staring at the blue and black squares on the wall, I sighed. Everything was going to shit, in all honesty.   
  
Looking around the - no, my room, I blinked. This was home now, but it didn't feel like it. I stared at the checkered wall, and suddenly felt sick. I didn't want to be here - no, that wasn't right. I wanted my memory back. I wanted to look at Jack, and Ryan, and Matt, and feel something other than simply gratefulness for them looking after me. I wanted to remember them as friends, as best friends, as people I could trust and confide in rather than people like the hospital nurses, who wouldn't be there to hear me talk but only to help me heal. And yeah, I loved that they were helping me, but I didn't feel close to them. I didn't feel like I knew them. I didn't feel like they knew me, but I knew that was bullshit. These were my best friends. I refused to let myself add the word 'supposedly' to the end of that thought.  
  
~♡~♡~♡Jack's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
Taking a deep breath, Jack leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Hundreds of thoughts ran through his mind.  
//Is Mark gonna be okay?  
Will he ever remember me?  
Does he remember anyone?  
Will he be up to making a video?  
How long until he can walk again?  
Does he trust me?//  
The one thought that his mind kept returning to was the one he feared the most. //Will he ever remember me?// He couldn't stand a life without Mark in it. He couldn't even remember a life without Mark in it. He looked forward to those Skype calls so much he couldn't remember a time before them. Without realising it, Jack's eyes had begun to fill with tears, and he reached up to wipe them away.  
  
Pulling his laptop closer, onto his lap, he began editing the footage he just recorded. It didn't need a whole lot of editing, so he just put in the 'high-five' sound (A/N: we all know it's a whip really) and began uploading, leaving his laptop on the desk. He honestly couldn't give a shit about his schedule at this point. He pushed himself out of his seat and stretched, hearing his back click and frowning. Maybe he had been sitting down longer than he realised.  
  
Leaving the room and crossing over to Mark's, he knocked on the door quietly. Getting no reply, he knocked again, harder. Maybe Mark had gotten to sleep. Or maybe, he didn't want to talk to anyone. Knocking one last time, Jack turned to go.  
  
"Hello?"  
Mark's voice was quiet, but Jack could hear it quietly. He sounded tired. Opening the door, Jack saw Mark sitting exactly where he had left him, staring at the wall.  
"Ya okay?" Jack asked quietly, leaning on the door frame. Mark turned to face him and nodded, but his eyes were watery.  
"I just... I want to remember...." He said, a tear escaping from his eye. Jack moved forwards and wrapped his arms around Mark, careful not to touch his sore back or legs. In the comforting embrace of Jack's arms, Mark let his tears run freely and started sobbing.  
"It's okay," Jack repeated, again and again. "It's okay. It's okay." Mark leaned into him and wept, but he knew that he was confiding in a stranger.  
  
\----(later)----  
  
Jack stood by as Mark carefully tried to wheel himself down the hall. They had decided that Mark should be more mobile by himself so Jack could get more work done (well, Mark had decided it. Jack was perfectly happy to keep pushing him everywhere). He was like a worried mother, wanting to watch over Mark all the time, make sure he was safe and okay and happy. He knew it was ridiculous, that Mark needed to be independent, but he couldn't help hovering over the American, always there to get him what he wanted. Mark's trust in the Irishman had improved massively since his breakdown earlierJack would never admit it to anyone, but part of him just wanted to break down as well. Just wanted to have someone wrap their arms around him and tell him it was all gonna be okay while he cried, even if he thought they were a stranger. Wait, that was creepy. Never mind. Anyway, he felt like he had to be the adult now. He knew he wasn't allowed to break down. He had to look after Mark. He couldn't cry. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't let himself. Maybe, once this was all over, he would let himself break down, and let himself let it all out for once.   
  
Without Jack noticing, Mark had managed to wheel himself all the way down the hall and into the kitchen, where he was now sat, talking to Ryan. Jack skidded into the kitchen and stopped when the two men turned to look at him.  
"Uh, hi," he said awkwardly, realising how weird his entrance must have looked.  
"Sup, man," Ryan said, stuffing his face with cereal (A/N: why are they always eating cereal why do I do this). Mark waved and turned back to Ryan.  
"Can I have a drink?" he asked cautiously. Ryan blinked, unused to being asked that by someone who lived there, but turned obligingly towards the cupboards and filled a glass with water. Setting it down in front of Mark, he returned to his cereal as Jack watched, walking forward and pulling out a chair. He sat down and looked at Mark intently.  
  
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Mark asked, swallowing. "You're not gay or anything, are you?" Jack laughed, but his throat felt tight.  
"Nah. Just thinking. Ya don't remember septiplier, by any chance, do ya?" Mark raised a questioning eyebrow.  
"Ya know, our... ship... name... never mind. It doesn't matter." Jack stared at the table, feeling his face going red. Before long he was bright red and Mark tilted his head.  
"So you //are// gay." he said.  
"No!" Jack replied, irritated. "I'm not. Septiplier was a runnin' joke between tha two o' us. We never meant it." He looked away awkwardly, his bushy eyebrows pulling together.  
  
There was silence apart from the ticking clock and Ryan munching on his cereal. The air was thick with tension and unspoken thoughts, and Jack thought he might explode. Scraping his chair back and standing up, he turned around and began walking back to his room, frustrated. Ryan and Mark simply stared at him.  
  
When he got back to his room, he flopped on the bed and got his phone out from his pocket. Tapping onto YouTube and finding his latest video, he scrolled down and began reading the comments, replying to them and deleting the spam ones. He was pleased to see how concerned everyone was about Mark, and he was glad they cared as much as he did. With a sigh, he rolled over and buried his face into the pillow, groaning. He stayed like that for about ten minutes, blocking out all the light.  
"Jack?" he heard from the doorway. With a jolt, he realised he had forgotten to shut the door. He got up and looked at the door, and was surprised to see Mark peering in.  
"What it it?" he snapped, before internally kicking himself. Why the fuck had he been so aggressive?  
"Oh. You're in a bad mood. Never mind." Mark turned to roll away, and Jack plastered his nicest smile on.  
"No, wait! Sorry. I'm fine. What is it?" he said calmly, wishing he could just go to sleep and/or cry.  
"I just wanted to know if you were okay. You seemed a little off earlier." Mark said, turning his wheelchair around. Jack shrugged.  
"I don't know. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Just worry about healin' yerself." Jack gave Mark his biggest grin, but on the inside he felt like falling to his knees and crying. He had to stay strong for Mark. "Say, uh, ya fancy playin' some more games sometime?" he asked hopefully.  
"Some more?" Mark asked, bewildered. "We played games together?" Jack's heart dropped.  
"Yeah... it was... uh... really... never mind." He turned around and stared resolutely out the window, determined not to let his tears escape.  
  
There was a few minutes of silence.

"Jack?" Mark said quietly after a while. "I, uh, I'm sorry I can't remember anything. I'm sorry I can't remember you or what we did together." When there was no reply from Jack, he turned around slowly and wheeled quietly away.  
  
Meanwhile Jack was trying to swallow down the rather large lump that had appeared in his throat and blink away the tears that threatened to show his weakness.   
  
~♡~♡~♡Mark's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
Rolling myself back to my room, I glanced behind me at Jack, who was still staring out of the window. What was that guy's problem? He was always so grumpy.  
  
\----(timeskip)----  
  
A few days later, Ryan and Matt announced that they were going out of state for a week or so, to get something or other. It was important, that was all I gathered. They were sorry that they had to leave Jack to look after me by himself and leave me when I was like I was, but they said it couldn't be helped. I wasn't too bothered, considering these guys were virtual strangers to me. At least, I wasn't too bothered before it dawned on me.  
  
I would be alone with Jack, this grumpy barely-trusted stranger, for a whole week.  
  
Neither of us had mentioned my breakdown since it happened, and I wasn't planning to. It was good to know that Jack wasn't a stone-hearted stranger after all, that he was someone who might be trustworthy, once I knew him better. That still didn't mean I wanted to be alone with him for a week, though. Why hadn't I listened when Ryan and Matt told us where they were going?  
  
For the first day, it was alright. We mostly stayed out of each others way. At some point in the months before I moved back in, Ryan and Matt had installed handrails that I could hold on to, which was useful, and meant I didn't have to call Jack for everything. My back hurt like a motherfucker, and I wondered often what I had been like before the crash. Had I been active? Had I sat at my computer all day? Had I worked out? It seemed to be the case, because I had muscles. They were weak, obviously, after months of disuse, but they were there. Clearly I hadn't been a total couch potato.  
  
Unfortunately, one of the things my memory was blocking from me was my passwords. I stared at my computer for a long, long time, but nothing came back to me. It was irritating, especially considering I was supposedly some big YouTube star. When I looked at other things memories came back. They were fragments of memories, to be fair, but they were memories nonetheless. For instance, I could remember buying a certain picture frame, but I couldn't remember where from. I could remember taking the picture, but I couldn't remember where we were, or the names of the people in it. It was annoying as all hell.  
  
\--  
  
One of the nicer things about Jack, though, was that he always remembered me. Every evening, he would make food for me, and it was always really good, which surprised me the first time. He would eat as well, but not as much, which made me think he was cooking solely for my benefit. It was a nice thought. He always cooked something different, and I was surprised to find I liked it all. He must have known my favourite foods from beforehand, if we were as close as he said, and I was glad I still had the same likes.  
  
I started to find myself looking forward to the evening meal, and eating it hungrily. Jack would always smile at my eagerness, and he would always wash up afterwards. It was nice to think that there were people who would do that kind of thing for you, even if they knew you didn't know them. It was a humbling thought.  
  
Most of the time, he kept himself to himself. Occasionally I would hear him, recording a loud, energetic video, but most of the time he was silent. He would come in immediately if I called him, and do whatever I needed, and I found myself beginning to like him a bit more as the days went on. Obviously I only called him if I really needed his help, because I wanted to be as independent as possible. I wondered if I was like that even before the crash, which by now seemed a distant memoryOn the sixth day, a day or so before Ryan and Matt were due to come back, I heard Jack arguing loudly on the phone with someone. Hiding around the corner, I could hear every word he was saying, but only a mumble from the phone.  
"WHAT THA FUCK DO YA MEAN?!"  
Mumble, mumble.  
"WHAT, SO YOU'VE JUST BEEN FUCKIN' AROUND THIS WHOLE TIME, HUH?!"  
Mumble, mumble.  
"IT WAS FER THA BEST? WHAT THA FUCK DO YA MEAN, IT WAS FER THA BEST?!"  
Mumble.  
"I DON'T HAVE AN ISSUE WITH HIM! HE HAS AN ISSUE WITH ME!"  
Mumble, mumble, mumble. I pressed my back against the wall, suddenly scared the conversation was about me.  
"I'VE BEEN HERE LOOKIN' AFTER HIM ALL THIS TIME, AND YA GO AN' DO THIS KIND O' SHITE?!"  
Mumble, mumble. Yep. It was about me.  
"OUR RELATIONSHIP IS FINE, YA FUCKER! WE'RE FRIENDS! WE'RE FINE! YER THA CRAZY ONE! YER DOING THIS TA MAKE US BETTER FRIENDS?! WE ARE FINE!"  
Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble. I stuffed my fingers into my ears, not wanting to hear any more. I didn't want to let Jack down. I guess we had sort of become friends over the week, but I still didn't trust him all that much.  
  
Having my fingers in my ears didn't help much. There was another ten minutes of Jack screaming and the other person (presumably Matt or Ryan) mumbling, before Jack clicked off the phone and began pacing back and forth, muttering angrily to himself. I rolled around the corner, and he stopped dead when he saw me.  
  
"You alright?" I asked, one eyebrow raised. Looking around, he swallowed and bit his lip.  
"Ya, ya heard that, huh?" he asked nervously.  
"It was pretty hard not to. In fact, I'm fairly sure the whole street heard it. You're very loud." He grinned, a sideways smirk that was ever-so-slightly familiar.  
"Yeah, I get that a lot. Anyway, do ya know what those fuckers are doin'?" he asked, beginning to pace again. I shrugged, and winced when it pulled on my back.  
"They're not goin' ta pick somethin' up at all. They've been on a fuckin' road trip, stayin' at random hotels an' doin' whatever tha fuck they want, while I've been here lookin' after ya. And do ya know what they just called me ta say?" I opened my mouth to respond, but he didn't leave me any time to answer. "Those fuckers just called me ta say they had ta 'stay out there another week, with unexpected stuff they have ta do.' I had ta force tha answers out o' them! They've been playin' me fer a fool this whole time! They've been tryin' ta make us get along better, those little shites!" He looked around angrily, and I started to worry he might throw something.  
  
"Is it.... that bad? Looking after me?" I asked nervously, and Jack instantly softened. I relaxed. I had never seen Jack that angry before, and somethinf clicked in my mind, a tiny memory. Jack wasn't the type to get that angry at someone. He might get that angry at a game, but not at a friend. Smiling to myself, I was glad I had remembered something about the mystery that was Jack (well, you know. To add to what he had told me.)  
  
"Nah, it's not that bad," Jack said, pulling me back to the present. "I'm just pissed that they didn't tell me tha truth. Yer a fun guy to hang out with." He smiled at me, his rage seemingly passed. Internally, I sighed in relief and counted myself lucky Jack hadn't started throwing things. If that had happened, I probably wouldn't have been able to calm him down. He didn't seem like the kind of person to throw stuff. I was glad that he was happy to be around me, as well. It was a nice thought.  
  
"So, uh, did they say anything else?" I asked. I might be pushing my luck, but at least I would know.  
"Oh, right. Apparently they're stayin' out there fer another week, which pissed me off even more," Jack said, scowling, and I got ready to duck if he flung something at my head. "But hey, at least we get ta hang out, huh?" He smiled, and his smile was calming. Mesmerising. I nodded, and grinned back at him.  
  
"Yeah. At least we get to hang out."

~♡~♡~♡Jack's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
Jack was interested by this new Mark. He seemed more guarded, less open to personal questions. Jack couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. He was just glad this new Mark shared the same tastes as old Mark. Otherwise all that cooking would be for nothing. Although, he supposed, why would a car crash alter your tastebuds?   
  
After his raging outburst at Ryan over the phone, Jack calmed down a little. He relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the time with Mark. Despite everything, he found himself enjoying it just as much as he did before the crash. He laughed so hard his stomach hurt, daily. He talked so much his throat went sore and dry almost every day. And the best part was, Mark was willing to listen. He would lean back in his wheelchair, satisfied, when Jack was beside himself with laughter at one of his jokes. He would reply to all of Jack's questions, and fire back his own. The two of them began to get closer, and a few of Mark's memories began to return. He was sick of being in a wheelchair all the time, and it didn't hurt him as much to move around. He could even stand up for a few seconds (with Jack's support). Hopefully he could get out of the wheelchair and onto crutches before Ryan and Matt returned. That would show them.  
  
After a little while, Jack couldn't keep his curiosity about a certain subject contained any more. While they were each shovelling down vast quantities of food, Jack paused for a minute.  
"Mark?" he asked guardedly. Mark looked up but didn't reply, his mouth full of bacon. "I, uh, I've been wonderin'. Do, well, do ya remember me? From... before?" Mark stared at him. After a few seconds, he swallowed and took a gulp of water. When he realised he couldn't put it off any more, Mark bit his lip and shook his head slowly. Jack's heart dropped. He knew it.  
"Ah well," he said, feigning cheerfulness. "And there was somethin' else, if it doesn't bother ya. Do ya, uh, remember tha crash at all?"  
  
Mark stared at the table for a long while. Jack started to think he hadn't heard him when Mark began to shake slightly. It was just his hands, but it was obvious.  
"Yes..." Mark whimpered, nodding his head slowly. Jack regretted saying anything. "I r...remember. I was driving, and someone in front of me lost control, and their car smashed into mine... and I remember darkness, and the car spinning and flipping and turning and there was someone screaming and there was blood and glass and ambulance people talking to me and someone apologising and pain and blackness and nothingness and emptiness..." Mark was staring hard at his plate, but he seemed to not quite be seeing it. A tear rolled down his cheek.  
Jack reached out carefully and patted Mark's arm.  
"It's alright," he said nervously. Mark didn't reply. He didn't say anything at all.  
  
\---  
  
A while later, Jack was sitting in his room, finding an old recording of a random flash game to upload. He was really running low on pre-recorded videos, at least on his laptop. He was sure he had loads stored on his main computer back at home, which was another thing on the list of nuisances. Groaning, he pushed his laptop away from him and spun his chair around, dragging himself up. Stretching, he wandered out into the hall and opened Mark's door.  
"Sup," he said, walking into the room. Mark waved at him, but continued frantically typing. Jack watched him for a few minutes, until Mark looked up at him, eyes shining.  
  
"Jack. I want to record a video."  
  
~♡~♡~♡Mark's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
Settling down in my wheelchair (not that I wasn't permanently settled), I internally ran around the room cheering for myself. I had managed to remember my passwords. I had unlocked my computer, and doing so unlocked hundreds of memories, of sitting exactly here, recording thousands of videos. I remembered playing all kinds of games. The one thing I hated, though, and couldn't for the life of me understand, is that I had no memories of playing with Jack. I couldn't remember a single time where I had sat down, Skyped Jack and played a game with him, and uploaded it.

Jack was busy making sure my camera and recording equipment were all set up perfectly, before giving me a big thumbs up and standing behind the camera, for support. I took a deep breath, and steadied myself, returning Jack's thumbs up. With a cheeky grin, he reached forward and clicked on the camera, beginning the recording.  
  
"Hello everyone. I'm Mark." I began, unsure of how to talk like there was someone watching this other than Jack. Like the camera was thousands of people, watching me agonise over something I found so easy a few months ago.  
  
"Hello. I already said that. Anyway, I'm Mark. You may already know that, or you might not. If you don't, I'm not normally like this. You see, something happened, about three or four months ago. Something big. Something, quite honestly, life-changing. And I know that's a cliché, but it's true." I took another deep breath. I could do this. "A while ago, I was in a terrible car crash. I fucked up my legs and back, but they're healing, luckily. I've been getting around in a wheelchair since I was allowed out of the hospital." I glanced at Jack to check I was doing okay, and he nodded reassuringly. "That's not the biggest issue, though. The biggest issue, is.... i-is... is..." I stared at my lap for a few beats. Jack told me later that in those few seconds, he was terrified I would break down, have a meltdown on camera. Luckily, I composed myself. Instead of staring at the camera, though, I decided to stare at a spot on the wall right next to it. It would save me trying to pretend there were people there, and potentially scaring myself into panic mode.  
  
"The biggest issue is I have amnesia now." I finally found the strength to say. "I have been slowly recovering my memories, but when Jack came to visit me, the first time I woke up in hospital, I had no idea who he was. Who anyone was. Who //I// was. Jack's standing behind the camera right now, making sure I don't break down or go crazy. The scary part is, I still don't have any memories of him. I can remember things about almost anyone else, but not Jack. It's like he's a black hole in my mind." I ignored the looks Jack was shooting me. "And I know he can hear me right now, because he's giving me weird looks, but I want to remember him. I want to know what he was like before he was forced into looking after me. I want to know how he acted around the old Mark. But I //can't fucking remember//. Why only him? Why can I remember playing games with other people, but not Jack?"  
  
Jack was giving me warning looks now. I turned to him and met his eyes, giving him a big smile. He seemed taken aback.  
  
"But it doesn't matter, for some reason. We're still getting along. We're still friends. And, even if I never get my memories of Jack back, what's to stop me making new ones? He's been more nice to me in the past week or so than I can remember anyone apart from family being in my entire life. Before I got to know him better, I thought he was a grumpy, bad-tempered stranger who occasionally had a good mood. Now, he's a funny, loud, good-tempered Irishman who I wouldn't give up for the world. My old memories of him don't matter. I have new ones." Glancing at Jack, I could see him getting emotional, and decided to wrap it up.  
  
"This is more like an indirect speech to him, because I know he's listening to everything I say. All of this bit might not be uploaded at all. Anyway," I said, clearing my throat and turning towards the camera instead of Jack. "So, a lot of stuff happened, and I couldn't remember any of my passwords until earlier today, meaning no videos. I hope none of you missed me too much! I know I'm amazing, but come on. Let me have a little time! Well, I'm hoping I should be back, with new videos, new Markimoo, very soon. Honestly, I cant wait. Anyway, I think I've been recording sentimental nonsense for a bit too long." With a smile, I held up my hand to wave, and was surprised by how clearly my ending line came flooding into my head.  
  
"Bub-bye!"

Jack leaned forward and clicked off the camera, gaping at me. I shrugged.  
"What was that all about?" he asked, his eyes watery.  
"I don't know. It just felt like the right thing to say. We can cut it out, if you don't want it in the video." I said, suddenly anxious that I had said the wrong thing. Jack shook his head.  
"No. I like it. Thank ya." He said, smiling widely at me. I smiled back, and wheeled myself out of the recording area. Jack stood aside to let me pass.  
  
~♡~♡~♡Jack's POV♡~♡~♡~  
  
Jack was concerned. He seemed to be the one missing gap in Mark's returning memory, and he couldn't understand why. Why just him? Mark had remembered Wade, Bob, Felix, Ryan, Matt, Ken, all his friends, //everyone//.  
  
Except for Jack.  
  
Why was he such a black hole in Mark's mind? Was he not memorable enough? Did Mark click off the Skype call, lean back and think //thank god that's over//? Was he that forgettable?  
  
Making up his mind about something, Jack walked into Mark's room, and found him flicking through videos on YouTube.  
"Hey Jack," he said without looking up. Jack folded his arms and leaned against the wall until Mark glanced up at him .  
"What is it?" the red-haired man said, looking up at Jack and pulling his headphones off.  
  
"I wanna show ya somethin'."  
  
Walking forward, Jack knelt down, so as to reach the keyboard. He clicked on My Channel, and it went to Mark's channel page.  
"What are you doing?" Mark asked him, but Jack didn't reply. Going into his videos, he scrolled down weeks on end, until he found what he was looking for, his and Mark's collab on Who's Your Daddy. It had been uploaded months ago, but Jack could still remember the jokes like it had been yesterday. He was hoping with all his heart that it would jog Mark's memory. If it didn't, well, he was going to have to give up.  
  
Clicking on the video, Jack checked the volume was on and put Mark's headphones on his ears. Mark was about to complain that he could do it himself, but the complaint died on his lips when he heard the voices in the headphones. He listened in silence, laughing at all the jokes and staring at their faces on the video. He broke out in a massive laughing fit at the septiplier joke, and Jack grinned. The video ended, and Jack walked forward to switch it off. As he was sorting that out, he felt Mark's arms wrap around his waist.  
  
"Jack," he whispered, head buried in Jack's stomach.  
"Yeah?" Jack replied, uncomfortable with the way Mark was hugging him, but not about to push him away. Mark pulled his head out and looked up at Jack, tears running down his cheeks. A wide smile went from ear to ear, and Jack had never seen him look happier.  
"What is it, Mark?" Jack asked. Mark grinned, a massive, happy smile. The smile of old Mark. The smile Jack had known and loved for years.  
  
"Jack... I remember."  
  
~End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really happy with how this ended up. I had a few different endings planned (they all ended up with Mark remembering Jack) but it just kind of turned out like this. This was actually really fun to write tbh and I didn't actually wanna stop writing it because it was awesome (at least to me). I hope you all enjoyed this random trek through Mark's memory loss.  
> Some things I should say:  
> -I'm not good at writing hospital scenes.  
> -Obviously there were police involved and blah blah, I didn't write about them because that's not what the story was about. The story was about Jack and Mark rebuilding their relationship.  
> -I FORGET TO WRITE JACK'S ACCENT UGH  
> -I went back and put Jack's accent into all of his dialogue. Occasionally he says you instead of ya. This may be intentional depending on how he's talking, or it may be me being a ding dong. You can decide.  
> -Sorry if I offended anyone with any part of this story. I didn't mean to.  
> -I think this is the longest oneshot I've ever written so far. Hm.  
> -12 MEMOS  
> -What's keeping characters in the story?  
> -I have no idea how to write for Ryan and Matt. Sorry.  
> -DOES JACK GET ANGRY AT PEOPLE?  
> -AAAAAHHHHHHH  
> -WRITERS BLOCK  
> -WRITING AT 1AM IS FUN HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA  
> -I'M NOT SLEEP DEPRIVED  
> -AT LEAST IT'S NOT FEELSY RIGHT
> 
> that is all.


	13. Good Morning, Mr McLoughlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teacher AU where Jack is lusting after the new PE teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I'm British. And this is set in an American school (supposedly, it's not specified). That would usually be a recipe for disaster, right? Well, in this case... it probably will be. Fun fun!
> 
> TEACHER LIST:  
> Mark: PE (gym) teacher  
> Jack: Science teacher  
> Felix: Drama teacher  
> Marzia: English teacher  
> Cry: Headteacher (only mentioned)  
> Rhett and Link: Deputies (only mentioned)  
> Ken: Computing teacher  
> Signe (Wiishu): School nurse  
> Dan Howell: Cooking teacher, only mentioned  
> Phil Lester: ditto Dan
> 
> Yeah. It probably sucks. Anywhoooooo, this is the first of many AUs I'm planning to write. I literally have a list on my memos of AUs I gotta write (so far there's 21, and this is only one of them, but I might end up not writing a few of them for whatever reason).
> 
> Too lazy to add italics. Anything like //this// is in italics. Use your imagination.
> 
> So yeah, I hope you enjoy this strange teachery oneshot, and I hope Jack and Mark were portrayed all right. More in the end notes. Enjoy! ^-^

"Good morning, Mr McLoughlin!" heard Jack from all angles as he walked into the building. He was popular, with both his fellow teachers and the students he taught. Every part of his bouncy personality was put into his lessons, meaning the students adored him. Everyone assumed his green hair was a result of a failed experiment, and he played along, although it had really been intentional.   
    
Sitting down at his desk, Jack began shuffling a few papers, ready to be marked. Groaning as he saw the first few answers on one of them, he leaned back, pushing his chair onto two legs (something he expressly forbade his students to do) and closed his eyes.  
"Bad answers?"  
Jack opened one eye cautiously. The voice had seemed familiar, and it's source even more so. A man stood in front of him, wearing a tracksuit. Glasses were shoved on his nose haphazardly. A wide grin plastered his handsome face goofily, and red hair fell across his forehead. Jack considered it for a minute, and concluded it was dyed. No natural hair was that bright.  
"Oh, yeah," he said suddenly, realising he had been staring at the handsome man and going almost as red as the man's hair. "Um, yer Mr Fischbach, right? Tha new gym teacher?"

Sticking out a hand, the man tilted his head. //He has nice arms//, Jack thought, regarding them with interest and blinking as he realised he was staring again.  
"Yeah, that's me. Mr Fischbach. Call me Mark. You're Sean, right?" Mark said, raising an eyebrow. Jack's blush deepened.  
"Um, yeah, but I prefer ta be called Jack-" Jack began. Mark cut him off, talking in his deep voice.  
"Cry already told me about all the teachers. You're the last one I had to talk to." Mark said, and added a wink at the end. Jack felt his heart rate speed up. What was happening to him? "Well, I gotta dash. There's a bunch of students doing before-school football training I gotta coach. Crazy kids. Anyway, gotta go! See ya later, Mr McLoughlin!"

With that, Mark turned around and rushed out of the room. Jack glanced at his reflection in the switched-off computer. He was bright red, and when he put a hand to his chest, his heart was beating faster than it ever had before.  
What the hell was wrong with him?  
More like, what the hell did Mr Fischbach do to him?

\---

"Mark?" Felix asked later at lunch, shovelling his face with food. Jack nodded, distracted by the sight of Mark outside on the field, kicking a football around with some of the sportier kids. The hum of lunchtime surrounded them, the chatter of hundreds of kids almost drowning out their conversation. Many of the teachers chose to eat in the staffroom, but there were a few that ate in the cafeteria, with the students.  
"He only joined the school a few days ago, you know," Marzia said, eating her food more elegantly than her boyfriend. It was no secret that the best English teacher and most enthusiastic Drama teacher were dating. Many of the students regarded them as the perfect couple. Well, aside from Dan and Phil, the cookery teachers.

"I know that," Jack said, looking back at the couple in front of him and frowning. "That's why I'm interested. Everyone already seems ta love him."  
"And that includes you, doesn't it?"  
The voice came from above Jack, and he looked up. There stood Ken, the computing teacher, with a grin on his face. Jack grinned back, and Ken put his food down next to Jack's as he slid onto the bench.  
"Ta answer yer question, no." Jack said, as dignified as he could. It fell apart when he started giggling at Felix, though. The Swedish teacher had his mouth stuffed full of meatballs, and he was trying to talk around them. Swallowing all of them at once, he took a gulp of water and began talking again.  
"Don't be stupid, Jack. It's fucking obvious." said Felix. Lots of the teachers had a tendency to swear, although the kids were punished for it. The hypocrisy of the education system.  
"I don't know what ya mean," Jack said indignantly, looking away from Felix with a haughty sniff. The four teachers began laughing, and it was at that point that Mark decided to join them. Jack's mouth almost fell open as the gym teacher walked up to them. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, knocking his glasses. His tracksuit clung to him, and his hair was messy from the wind. Jack felt his cheeks go pink.  
"Hey," he said as he walked up to them and sat down next to Jack, their thighs touching.    
   
Refusing to look at Mark, Jack stared very hard at his food and resumed eating, letting conversations drift past over his head.  
"Hey, Mark!"  
"Hey,"  
"Hello!"  
"Say, you know I only joined recently?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Well, so far there have been a load of students and teachers from different countries. Is that just me?"  
"Nah, that's true. There's the country-crossed lovers over here, and there's our little science leprechaun here, the British baking lovers, and a bunch of the students are from different countries. Why?"  
"Just interested. Everything is so different to my old school."  
"Jack, you okay?"  
"Hm?" Jack asked, surfacing from his daydream. It totally hadn't involved Mark. At all. Not in the least.   
"You seemed out of it," Marzia continued, her eyebrows pulled together. Everyone was looking at Jack now, and he felt himself get even redder.  
"I'm fine. Just daydreaming." Jack said, smiling at Marzia. She frowned, and kissed Felix on the cheek before getting up to dump her rubbish in the bin.  
"Well, I have to go. I've got a lot of essays I need to mark, and there was a kid who wanted to talk to me about their grade. I'll see you later?" she said in her soft accent, leaving before she could get an answer. Felix stared at her as she left, and they could all see the love in his eyes. 

After a while, Ken picked up his rubbish as well, and threw it in the trash.  
"I gotta run, too," he said, ruffling Jack's hair in a friendly way. "Some tests I gotta check. Same-old, same-old." He smiled, and began to walk away, towards the computer labs. Soon, Felix made his excuses as well, and disappeared. Jack was left with Mr Fischbach sitting next to him distractingly.

"I didn't get to talk to you earlier," Mark said, leaning on the table. His muscles bulged, and Jack stared fixedly at his meal.   
"Mmm," the Irishman said, shoving food into his mouth so he wouldn't have to answer any questions.  
"I hear you're one of the most popular teachers around the school," Mark continued, stealing a chip from Jack's plate. Jack frowned at him, but found he couldn't keep up the annoyed expression, not when it was directed at this god of a man.  
"Well, that's debatable," Jack said, swallowing. Mark laughed, a deep laugh that made Jack catch his breath.   
"Not to me. You seem like the type to be popular." Mark said, stretching. Jack almost choked on his food.  
"Thank ya, I guess," said Jack, frowning. Getting up, he threw his rubbish in the trash and was surprised to see Mark standing by him.

"So, I was thinking," Mark said as they walked along the hallway. Students ran past them, giggling, and Jack chose to ignore them.  
"That's dangerous," the science teacher said, before he could stop himself. Mark began laughing again, the laugh that never seemed to have an end.  
"Jeez, I need to be friends with you," he said after a while, wiping away a tear. "Anyway, I was thinking, and I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee after school? I've gotten to know all the other teachers by now, but you seem to be a little less easy to track down. Where do you even go after school?"  
Jack looked at Mark in surprise.  
"Yer serious?"  
"Sure! It's on me..." That did it for Jack. He nodded, and tried to block dirty thoughts of Mark and coffee. Seriously, where were these thoughts coming from?  
"Great!" Mark said, and the goofy grin returned. "I'll come see you in your science lab after school, then?" Jack nodded again, not trusting himself to speak, and Mark grinned widely.   
"Awesome!" he said, turning around and giving Jack a wave. With a jump, he began running down the hall himself. Jack watched him go, and gave a small wave once he was out of sight. Putting one hand to his cheek, he could feel that it was burning up, and he knew he was bright red. Making his way to the science department, he hid a smile as he thought of Mark, and looked forward to after school.  
   
\---

All that afternoon, Jack was super distracted in lessons. His students noticed it, taking advantage of his thoughts being elsewhere to whisper and talk. Jack's thoughts were in fact out on the field, with Mark. The science labs gave a perfect view of the field and the PE lessons, and Jack had never paid it much attention before now. Every time he had a spare second, he would glance out the window, and his heart would hammer when he saw Mark, occasionally giving a little wave if the gym teacher was looking his way. Mark would wave back, before continuing to gently coach his students. 

Once the bell had gone for the last time that day and his students had packed their stuff and left the room in a massive crush, Jack sat back in his chair and sighed. Glancing up at the room in front of him, he scowled as he realised his students had forgotten to put away all their Bunsen burners and chemistry equipment, //again//. Pulling himself out of the chair, he began picking up the science equipment and shoving it away in the correct drawers. Honestly, he loved those kids, but their constant forgetfulness annoyed him.

While he was in the middle of that, someone knocked on the door.  
"Come in," Jack said, puffing upwards to remove the hair from his face as he travelled back and forth between tables. Mark pushed the door open and grinned as he saw Jack moving back and forth.  
"Hey there," he said, leaning against a table. Jack gave him a big smile and threw the last of the Bunsen burners into the drawer, almost skipping towards Mark. Grabbing his bag from the chair, he walked towards Mark, and they began walking down the hallway.

"You've been busy," Mark said, throwing a dazzling smile towards Jack. The smaller man felt his heart speed up, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.   
"Well, tha kids tend ta leave stuff out all tha time, so I end up puttin' things away most nights," Jack explained, feeling like he was talking unnecessarily. Mark seemed interested by all he had to say, though, and Jack began to be more open.  
"That must be tiring," Mark remarked. Jack nodded.  
"Yeah, but ya know. I love tha kids. They're good ta me, and I'm good ta them. We get on." Jack shrugged, feeling like he was saying too much.  
"I agree," Mark said, and Jack looked up in surprise.  
"Ya do?"  
"Yeah. I'm good to the kids that need or deserve it, and I'm bad to the kids that need some discipline. It works out." Jack looked away again, half-smiling.  
"See, I'm just not good at bein' mean. There are always tha kids that need ta be shown who's tha boss, but I just can't find it in me ta tell 'em." Laughing, Mark patted Jack on the shoulder.  
"I'm sure you'll get to it eventually." Then he strode on. Jack jogged after him, every part of him burning, starting from the point Mark had touched. Before Mark had come along, he had counted himself as 101% straight. Now he wasn't so sure.

"Coming?" Mark called, and Jack snapped out of his daydream. They were almost at the front door, and Jack walked to catch up.  
"Sorry. I was thinkin'." He said, cheeks burning with shame. He seemed to be blushing a lot lately. Well, since Mark had arrived.  
"You're very distracted today," Mark commented as they began walking down the school drive. Jack shrugged.  
"Yeah, well, I get distracted sometimes," he said, hoping Mark would buy it. The taller man raised an eyebrow and said nothing, and the two walked to the coffee shop in near-silence. Jack wanted to say something, but he didn't know what, and Mark seemed to be focused on other things. The Irishman was just glad it was a short distance from the school to the café.  
When they got in, Jack breathed in the smell of hot coffee and relaxed. He began to dig in his bag for his wallet, but a hand on his arm stopped him.  
"I'll pay," Mark said when Jack looked up. Jack smiled sheepishly and slowly pulled his hands out from the bag.  
"Are ya sure?" he asked suddenly, biting his lip. Mark laughed and nodded.  
"What are you having, Mr McLoughlin?" the gym teacher asked, and Jack giggled.  
"I'll have anythin', really," he said, looking at Mark. "I'm not picky, at least not about coffee." Mark laughed again, and walked towards the counter. Jack hung back, staying near the door of the shop. 

All of a sudden, the coffee shop seemed to double in popularity. Noise levels rose, until it was just a wordless buzz in Jack's ears. A few minutes passed, and Mark returned with two takeaway coffee cups and a paper bag.  
"I was thinking we could eat in the park or somewhere," Mark said. Jack frowned. His words had just melted into the background noise and made no sense.  
"What?" Jack replied, scrunching up his face. Mark put his mouth near Jack's ear, and Jack's whole body tensed up at his closeness. Mark's hot breath tickled against his ear, and Jack hardly dared breath.  
"I said, I was thinking we could eat in the park!" Mark repeated into Jack's ear. Jack nodded agreement, since he didn't trust his mouth to say the right words.

Walking out of the coffee shop meant Jack was hit in the face with a blast of cool air. Handing Jack his coffee, Mark took a gulp of his own, and they began walking towards the park.  
"So, um, how long have you worked at the school?" Mark asked after a while, to break the silence.  
"A few years now," Jack said, frowning as he tried to think. "My friends have worked there longer, I think."  
"Who do you mean by your friends?" Mark asked, seeming honestly interested in Jack.  
"Well, there's obviously Felix, Marzia an' Ken, who ya already know. Ya know Cry, tha head, of course. I don't know if ya know Rhett an' Link?" Jack asked, looking sideways at Mark. He shook his head, and Jack continued. "Well, those are tha two deputy heads. Then there's Signe, she's tha school nurse. Dan an' Phil are tha cookery teachers. They're datin', just like Felix an' Marzia. Those are my closest friends, an' we're lucky we all work in tha same place." Mark nodded, fascinated, and continued to question Jack. The younger man replied happily, smiling at the red-haired guy. 

After about five minutes, they reached the park. Mark sat down on a bench and patted the space next to him, indicating Jack should sit there. Jack did so, and took a long gulp of coffee.  
"This is really good," he said, licking his lips. Grinning, Mark opened up the paper bag he was holding, and the sweet smell of chocolate wafted out.  
"Chocolate éclairs," he said, taking one of them out. Jack felt himself smiling, and grabbed the second one from the bag. 

"I didn't know what you liked, so, um..." Mark said sheepishly, looking away and scratching the back of his head. Jack smiled at him happily, his mouth full of éclair.  
"It's fine. I like them." he said, swallowing. The American smiled back, and then blushed. Jack's eyes widened. He had never seen Mark flustered before, but that's what he seemed to be.  
"Ya okay?" he asked cautiously. Mark nodded, his face returning to a normal colour.  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... nervous." Jack laughed.  
"Why are ya nervous? Am I scary or somethin'?" he asked jokingly. Mark shook his head. He seemed to be about to say something, opening his mouth, but then closed it again.  
"Anyway, I was wondering. What kind of people work at the school?" he said hurriedly, covering up whatever he was about to say. Jack replied eagerly, bringing the conversation back on track. 

-

The next day, Jack found himself in the school nurse's office like an injured kid, holding out his finger for inspection. Yet again, he had hurt himself in one of his lessons, this time by catching his finger on the edge of a sheet of paper. His students knew how often he got hurt, and they often joked about it.  
Signe, the school nurse, bustled back and forth. She was a beautiful woman, with a lovely smile, and once upon a time Jack had been extremely attracted to her. It had worn off during their work as colleagues, however, but he still found her quite pretty. He thought maybe, in an alternate universe, they might be dating. Maybe if they weren't colleagues. Maybe if Jack had chosen a different career path. It didn't matter. 

She told him off as she applied a plaster to the cut on his finger.  
"Honestly, Jack, you're in here more days than I am." she joked. It was true. She worked four days a week, and Jack was usually in there at least once every day.  
"Yeah, well, I'm a busy guy. I get hurt," Jack said, flashing her a cute smile. She giggled and stuck the plaster onto his finger to add to the rest.  
"Now, I don't wanna see you again for the rest of the week, pretty as you may be," Signe flirted, but Jack didn't respond as well as he did before. Her feminine features were nice, but he didn't find them as attractive. Instead, Mark kept returning to his thoughts.

"I'll try," Jack said, and winked. Signe giggled, and turned away to busy herself with something else. Getting up, Jack walked back out, going through the classes to his science lab, where his class were waiting quietly.

However, instead of returning to a quietly waiting class of silent teenagers, Jack returned to a total circus of a room. Students were gathered in circles, talking, while the wilder of them were standing, dancing to music that was playing loudly over the speakers.  
"WHAT THA HELL IS GOIN' ON IN HERE?!" he yelled over the noise. One of the teens ran to the computer and clicked off the music. 

There was sudden, deathly silence.

"Right," Jack said, giving the class the evil eye. "Someone better explain, //now//." Someone gave a terrified squeak. This was the angriest they had ever seen Jack. In truth, Jack was just thinking about Mark, and how he would always show the students who needed it who was boss. And, uh, maybe thinking about him in another way, too.

"Uh, Mr McLoughlin, sir, we were, um, just..." one of the students stammered.  
"JUST WHAT?!" Jack roared. The teen gave a squeal of fear. The room was silent again.  
"That's it," Jack said, giving the student a death stare. "We are going ta continue with tha lesson, an' ya will //not// be carryin' out tha experiment I had planned." There was a groan of disappointment, and Jack put his hands on his hips.  
"Ya brought this on yerselves," he said as he walked to the board and picked up his whiteboard pen. He heard shuffling behind him, and smirked to himself. He had shown those kids who was the BOSS, and it was ol' Jackaboi, right here.  
"Now, where were we?" asked Jack, writing something on the board and turning around. A sea of attentive faces greeted him, assuring him that he had proved himself a good teacher.

That lunchtime, Jack was sitting in his classroom, marking that day's work. A knock at the door made him look up eagerly, but it wasn't Mark. Instead, Felix stood there, grinning like a goof.   
"Oh, hey Felix," Jack said, putting his pen down.  
"Sup, man," the Drama teacher said, walking in and sitting on a desk.  
"What did ya need?" asked Jack, not really focusing. He was clicking through a website on his computer.   
"Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something?" Looking up in surprise, Jack raised an eyebrow.  
"What do ya need help with?"  
"Well, I set homework for once, and then I realised I have no idea how to mark homework. Could you, uh, help me?" Jack laughed and nodded, and Felix looked relieved.  
"Thanks!" he said, jumping up. "Come on then!"  
"Oh, now?" Jack asked, putting the pile of papers on his lap onto the desk.  
"Yeah!" Grabbing Jack's hand, Felix led him through the hallways to the drama studio. It was a large room, rather like a dance studio, with a long mirror along one wall. Leading Jack to a massive pile of papers, Felix indicated them, and Jack whistled.   
"How much homework did ya set?" he asked incredulously. Felix shrugged and sat down, pulling one of the papers off the top of the pile. Jack sat next to him and grabbed a pen off the desk, beginning to show Felix what kind of comments to leave.

The two of them spent most of the lunch hour marking the pile of papers, and they managed to pretty much clear them up. About ten minutes before class was about to begin again, the door opened. Both the teachers in the room glanced up, and Jack was surprised to see Mark standing there awkwardly.  
"Hey Felix, have you seen J- oh, there you are!" Mark said, noticing Jack halfway through his sentence. Two girls walked past him, talking and giggling, and he went into the room and pushed the door shut.  
"Hey, Mark!" Felix said, returning to ticking one of the papers. Biting his lip, Mark ran a hand through his hair, and Jack felt his heart begin hammering.   
"Can I talk to you?" Mark asked Jack, after waving and saying hi to Felix.  
"Sure," Jack said, putting down the paper and pen he was holding and getting up. Brushing off his trousers, he smiled at Mark and raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
"Uhm... this is a weird question, but would you... w-would you.. uh..." Mark began stuttering, his face going red. Jack tilted his head.  
"Would I what?" he asked, a corner of his mouth pulling upwards.  
"Would you want to... uh... oh, for fucks sake!" he exploded suddenly. 

Felix glanced up from the floor and pushed himself upwards, dusting off his clothes.  
"I'll give you two some privacy," he said, dropping the marked paper onto the pile and sauntering out of the room, but not after winking at Jack.  
"What is it, Mr Fischbach?" Jack asked jokingly. Mark didn't meet his eyes, seemingly flustered. Jack found the other man increasingly attractive with every move he made, and it was starting to irritate him, just how hot the other teacher was.  
"Well, Mr McLoughlin," Mark said, seemingly calm and collected once more. "I was, uh, wondering if you..." After that, he muttered something under his breath that Jack strained to hear.  
"What?" the Irishman asked, scrunching his nose up.  
"For fucks sake," Mark said again. "I know we've only known each other a few days, and this is sudden, and I don't know if you even like me, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me some time?" Going as red as his hair, Mark stared fixedly at the floor. Jack's eyes widened. Was this even happening? Was it just one of his fantasies? This could not be happening.

"S...sure..." he said nervously, as though worried that if he said the wrong thing this whole thing would disappear like a dream.  
"Great!" Mark replied, all smiles again. He wrapped his arms around Jack in a hug and grinned at him. "Sorry this is all so sudden, I just..." Suddenly, he released Jack, who was reeling from the close contact with the other teacher.  
"Heh... it's fine. In all honesty, I was hopin' ya would say somethin' like that." Jack said, his cheeks going pink. Mark's jaw dropped. 

"You're joking?" the taller man exclaimed. Shaking his head, Jack giggled. Without any prompts, he wrapped his arms around Mark's waist and pulled the gym teacher towards him. Their faces were moving towards each other, and Jack was starting to close his eyes, glad beyond belief that this wasn't a dream. It was all moving so fast, but neither of them cared. Their lips touc-

"M...Mr McLoughlin? Mr Fischbach? We... uh... are we interrupting something?" Pulling back from Mark and releasing his hold on him, Jack sprang away from the other teacher. Two students stood at the door, which was pushed open, a boy and a girl. Jack recognised them both, and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it.  
"Uh... hello Abby, hello Mitchell, what are you doing here?" he asked hurriedly, glancing around. Mark suddenly seemed very interested in the floor. Jack couldn't blame him.

"We were looking for Mr Kjellberg, but if we're in the way of something..." the girl replied, beginning to pull the door closed. Jack pointed wordlessly down the hall, and the two shut the door and ran off.  
Giggles and whispers sounded from the other side of the thick wood. Still staring at the ground, Mark dragged his feet over to the desk and dropped himself into the chair. His head fell into his hands.  
"How are we ever gonna explain this?" he moaned. Jack shrugged, his face still red. Everything seemed to be a little far away at the moment. He had almost kissed Mark Fischbach.   
"I don't think we're gonna be able ta," he said suddenly, surprising both himself and Mark. "Abby and Mitchell are always together, an' they're two o' tha biggest gossips in tha school." Mark groaned, and Jack couldn't help but think of the sound in a different setting. Shaking his head, his mind returned to the drama at hand.  
//Stop it, Jack//, he told himself. //Yer meant ta be a pro at dealing with drama. Yer a teacher o' teenagers, fer gods sake.//

Just then, the bell rang, and Felix pushed open the door. He looked questioningly at the two, but Jack just shook his head and left. Mark followed him, but they had to split apart to go to their different classes. Watching him go, Jack regretted ever talking to him. Yes, he was hot as all hell. Yes, he made Jack's heart feel like it would explode. Yes, he might not be as straight as he thought. But it was causing him so much drama that he was wondering if it was worth it.

That day in lessons, Jack thought he had gotten over the embarrassment of lunchtime. So it was a total shock to him when he asked for questions before an experiment and heard this:  
"Sir! Is it true you were kissing Mr Fischbach in the drama studio at lunch?"   
Sniggers filled the room, and Jack gripped the back of his chair until his knuckles turned white.  
"We were not kissin'," he said crisply.  
"But Abby and Mitch said-"  
"WE. WERE. NOT. KISSIN'." Jack replied angrily. Folding his arms, he turned away from the student who had asked that. "Are there any //other// questions?" A sea of hands waved in the air, and Jack prayed they were about the lesson.  
"Jasmine?" he asked, choosing the one person in the class he least expected to ask something about Mark. Jasmine was the quietest girl in the class. She never got involved with others and often worked alone.  
"Sir, is it true you and Mr Fischbach were in the park yesterday sharing chocolate éclairs?" she asked smoothly. Silence filled the room, before the class erupted into snorts of laughter. Jack's mouth dropped open. Even Jasmine?  
"We were not sharin' 'em! We were havin' a friendly conversation!" he said indignantly. The class began to explode with questions.  
"Sir! Are you and him dating?"  
"Sir! Sir! Do you think he's hot?"  
"Why were you so close to him at lunch?"  
"Have you kissed him, sir?"  
"Sir! Sir! Have you done... //you know//, the //thing// with Mr Fischbach?"  
"They're trying to ask if you two have had sex!"  
There was a massive outbreak of laughter at the last two. Feeling his face grow hot, Jack slammed his hand down on the table.

"ENOUGH!"

Glaring round at the class, Jack couldn't believe he was yelling at students for the second time in a week. This was more than he'd ever done before. Growing silent, the class stared at him.   
"Mr Fischbach an' I are not romantically involved in any way." he growled. Someone snorted with laughter.  
"Is that //funny// ta anyone?" he asked, giving the student a death stare. They shook their head frantically, and he nodded.  
"Good. Now I don't wanna hear anyone else talkin' about me an' Mar- Mr Fischbach being together."

Picking up a pen, he turned around and began drawing a diagram on the board.   
"Now," he said, turning around calmly. "Tha chemical composition o'...."

\---

After school, Jack packed his work into his bag and left the room, heading for the PE offices. Knowing he had work to do, he put it out of his mind and just thought about Mark. As he was walking, Felix jogged up next to him.  
"Hey, I wanted to thank you for your help today," the Drama teacher said, grinning widely.  
"No problem," Jack said, smiling back. Looking at his watch, Felix stopped dead.  
"Oh crap!" he exclaimed, looking at Jack with horror. "I gotta meet Marzia!"  
Jack laughed at his friends forgetfulness. Shifting his bag higher on his shoulder, he waved at Felix, who was already running off.

Shaking his head, Jack began to laugh, at least until a young girl ran in front of him and stopped his path. She smiled up at him, and he had to refrain from scowling. Did everyone want to stop him from seeing Mark? Instead, he plastered a smile on his face.   
"Mr McLoughlin!" the girl said, a big smile on her face. "I wanted to check with you about the homework assignment."  
"What is it, Jess?" Jack sighed.  
"Well, did we just have to write the essay or did we have to do the diagram as well?"  
"Ya gotta do tha diagram! Ya should know that by now." Jack joked playfully. The girl nodded and began to walk off, waving.  
"Thanks, sir!" She said, and Jack waved back.  
"An' I want it in on time, fer once!" he shouted after her, and she laughed before shooting off. Groaning, Jack prayed there wouldn't be any more distractions between now and the PE offices.

Luckily, he got there without anyone else stopping him. When he walked into the building, he glanced into the office and was surprised to see nobody there. There was usually at least one person sitting there, checking lesson plans or whatever paperwork they did in gym. Walking onwards a bit, he felt like a new student, looking for lessons.

Pushing open the door to the sports hall, he looked around. The school was lucky enough to have a massive rock wall in their sports centre, and Jack's eyes travelled up it. His mouth dropped open when he saw Mark at the top. The gym teacher's arms were bulging with muscle, and he was climbing up to the very top of the wall. Glancing down, he spotted Jack at the entrance to the hall.  
"Jack!" he exclaimed, and twisted round. Jack was impressed by the immense strength Mark was showing.  
"Yer awesome!" he yelled up, impressed. Mark winked.  
"You think that's all?" he replied, bringing his legs off the wall. He pulled them up until he was horizontal against the wall, only supporting himself sideways by his arms. Jack's eyes widened and his jaw dropped even more.

After showing off a bit more, Mark leaped off the wall. He did a flip and landed directly on the soft mats at the bottom, holding out his arms in a gymnast finish. Jack gave him a round of applause, incredibly impressed.  
"Yer amazin' at rock climbin'," he said as Mark gathered his things. The taller man shrugged.  
"It's something I enjoy," he said, turning his dazzling grin on Jack. Blinking, the younger man bit his lip and shuffled his feet. The two of them started chatting as Mark got his stuff and they went on their way.

Walking out of the sports centre, Jack took a few moments to think. The man next to him was beautiful, and funny, and exciting, and interesting - and Jack was scared he might be falling in love. But that was impossible. He was straight, right? Conjuring up the image of a woman's face, he studied it in his mind. It just didn't appeal as much as it might have before. He still would be interested in kissing it, and on the note of kissing, Mark's face floated back into Jack's mind.  
"You okay?" he heard from next to him. Looking up, he blinked. Mark had been trying to talk to him.  
"Yeah. Just... thinking." Jack replied quickly. Mark frowned but said no more.

"So, uh... am I taking you out for dinner or what?" Mark asked suddenly. Jack whipped his head round to look at him.  
"Wait, yer serious?" he said after a heartbeat. Mark looked at him nervously, biting his lip.  
"Well, you don't have to. It was just an idea. I mean, we just met and all that." Looking away, Mark tried to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks. "And this is kind of hurried because I really wanna see you more and I just..." He trailed off.

He trailed off because Jack had kissed him on the cheek.

Looking round at the shorter man, Mark put a hand to his cheek in disbelief. Jack was sure no one had seen, and that was a good thing. He didn't need more rumours, even if they were partly true.  
"I'd love ta go out ta dinner," he whispered, smiling. Mark felt his face crumple into a smile.  
"Aw man, you're really cute," he said, his face cracking into a grin. Jack pulled his bag up further on his shoulder and began walking, throwing glances over his shoulder as if to check Mark was there. The more he looked at the fit PE teacher, the more he just wanted to kiss every inch of his face, and possibly his body as well. Well, not possibly. Definitely. Jack felt his face heat up at that last thought, but for once he didn't care.  
   
Mark followed him hurriedly, still smiling. They reached the end of the school drive, and Jack turned the corner. He was heading somewhere in a rush, but just where he was going, Mark couldn't imagine.   
"This way," Jack said, walking through the park. Mark had faithfully followed him all the way from school, and he was left wondering where they could possibly be heading. 

In the end, Jack found where he was headed. There was a tiny opening in a patch of trees, and the Irishman slipped through the gap like he had done it every day of his life. Mark dithered outside, debating whether to enter or not, when a hand reached out and grabbed his shirt. It pulled him through the gap, and Mark found himself in a tiny, tiny clearing, barely big enough for two people. His body was pressed up against Jack's, who was staring up at him with those big blue eyes.

"Yer tha first person other than me ta see this place," Jack said, grabbing the collar of Mark's shirt. Before Mark had time to react, Jack pressed his lips against the taller man's. They stood there, in the tiny wooded glade, locked in their passionate embrace, until finally they broke apart.  
"That's flattering to me," Mark panted. He tried to catch his breath as his glasses slipped off his nose. Jack reached up and pulled them off of Mark's face. Mark didn't react, still able to see, and Jack folded the glasses up, sticking them in his front pocket.  
"I always thought glasses were impractical fer a gym teacher anyway," he said, looking up at Mark through his eyelashes.  
"You're really fucking adorable," Mark said, staring at Jack. He pressed his lips against Jack's once more, and they didn't part for the next few minutes. Or hours, whatever.

\---

The next morning, Jack sat in his chair, giddy. He couldn't stop thinking about Mark, and the time they had spent together the night before. He knew he had work to do, but the thought of how sexy Mark had been pushed everything else out of his mind. And he had thought he was straight. Yeah, right. Not after a night like //that//. Biting the inside of his cheek, Jack couldn't help remembering every part of Mark. He thought he could imagine his voice, speaking in those rich, deep tones. When he opened his eyes, he even saw him. Leaning against the door, muscles as sexy as ever, corners of his mouth pulled up in that cute smile. 

Mark walked towards him, dropping a kiss on his forehead. Jack relished the contact, deciding that maybe those rumours weren't so bad after all. Well, they were true. Jack thought about his new boyfriend, and sighed in disbelief. How had he been so lucky? Looking up at Mark, he saw his lips move, and the phrase he had heard so many times before escape his mouth. Only, with Mark, it seemed more intimate. Closer. Better. Sexier, that was a bonus. Sweeter. More beautiful than Jack could ever hope to be.  
"Good morning, Mr McLoughlin." 

~End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was a rollercoaster. I hope it didn't come across as moving too fast, because that's how it felt to me. I feel like writing on memos prompts me to write more, because this is another super long oneshot T~T
> 
> No offence meant to anyone called Abby, Mitchell or Jess. Or whatever other names I put in here. Whoop whoop!
> 
> Well, that got unexpectedly sexy towards the end. Jeez. That's probably the closest I'll ever come to writing a smut scene (PUN MAYBE idk). It was insinuated. I was planning on putting in a little more, but at the same time I didn't want it to be clear what had happened. You can take it either way. They might have fucked, or they might have spent a nice night playing Scrabble and arguing about whether or not "zop" is a word. And yeah, that's the most I'm gonna write smut-wise. Sorry. I'm just not comfortable with smut. There is someone who is very very good at writing smut, though. ~razorbladecass~ you should check them out if you're into smut. Which I'm not. (Maybe). But in any case, they're amazing. ~♡
> 
> This moved way too fast, but if it didn't then it would have been way too long, and I hate having multiple writing projects on in one go. I do it a lot, but I hate it. And I felt like this one needed a bit of extra attention, because big AUs like this are kinda hard to write and kind of need reminding that they are an AU, if you know what I mean?
> 
> I really need a writing app tbh. Writing on memos is hard and irritating and I don't like it. Even these notes have been written out on memos (often written at the same time as the story) and copy-pasted into the correct box. Fun.
> 
> Things I should say (is this becoming a regular thing?):  
> -I wanted to put Dan and Phil as cuteness and/or gayness teachers but nah.  
> -AT LEAST I GOT THE PHAN IN THERE  
> -im trash  
> -Who wouldn't want these guys to teach them?  
> -Yes pls  
> -Mark is hot af  
> -Jack is cute af  
> -Phan is YES af  
> -septiplier is otp af  
> -but what about septiishu   
> -gotta get me some septiishu   
> -I CAN'T CHOOSE WHAT TO SHIP  
> -SEND HELP  
> -can I just....   
> -so much gay  
> -hnnnnngg  
> -what am I doing  
> -SO MANY MEMOS  
> -I need a writing app or something
> 
> Toodles! ^-^


	14. Excuse Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee Shop non-youtuber AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, pure and simple.  
> Here, have a sweet little non-YouTuber AU after all that serious, heavy stuff I've written before. I just need to stop, man. I need to calm down and write more fluff. This was really fun to write tbh, and I hope you enjoy reading it.  
> Have fun!

"Excuse me, do ya mind me sittin' here?"  
  
Mark broke out of his thoughts and looked up at the man in front of him. He had bright green hair that almost hurt your eyes to look at it too long, but a brown, stubbly beard, and his big blue eyes were persuasive. Gesturing towards the other seat, the man had a coffee container in his hand.  
"It's just everywhere else is full, an' I really don't wanna drink my coffee somewhere else," the stranger continued. His high-pitched voice was tinged with a heavy Irish accent, and it wasn't unpleasant to Mark, although unfamiliar.  
  
"Oh, sure," he found himself saying, without realising. The stranger flashed him a big grin and dropped himself into the seat opposite Mark. Glancing round at the coffee shop, Mark noticed the shop had filled up while he was daydreaming. The seat opposite him had been the only place left. And he didn't blame the stranger for not wanting to drink elsewhere. It was busy, and Mark shivered as he looked outside. Freezing. The stranger only seemed to have a hoodie on, and it was a freezing winters day.  
  
Mark sat there, sipping his coffee and not looking at the stranger, until he was finished. Leaving the shop, he drew his coat around him, and suddenly the stranger's face popped into his mind. It wasn't a bad face, Mark thought, thinking very hard. He knew he was bisexual, but he had only seen the stranger for a second. Throwing a look back into the shop, and seeing the stranger gulping his coffee, Mark shrugged and began walking through the cold air.  
  
\--  
  
The next day, Mark returned to the shop, like always. He was a regular customer, and the table he had been at was his usual. Walking into the shop like usual, Mark stopped dead.  
  
The stranger was at his table again.  
  
Granted, the shop was, once again, busy, and his table was the only spare one (the baristas knew Mark didn't like people sitting at his table. Maybe it was a new employee), he couldn't exactly blame the guy. Besides, in a way he was glad. He could maybe talk to the Irish guy this time.  
  
One of the baristas handed Mark his usual, and he went and dropped down in the seat opposite the man. It's my usual seat, Mark told himself. I don't have to ask to sit here.  
"Hi. I didn't get a chance ta talk ta ya yesterday." the man said. He held out a hand, the one not occupied by coffee. "I'm Jack. You are?"  
"I'm Mark," Mark replied, shaking Jack's hand. He took a sip of his coffee, and looked sideways at Jack. Again, he was simply wearing a hoodie and jeans, while everyone else was bundled up in scarves, jumpers, gloves, hats and suchlike.  
"Aren't you cold?" Mark commented. Jack glanced down at his clothes, and shrugged.  
"Not really. I'm from Ireland, so I'm used ta it bein' a lot colder than this." Jack replied. Mark nodded and looked away. That explained the accent.  
  
They sat there for a few minutes in frosty silence. Well, Mark was in frosty silence. Jack was just sort of in a forced silence. They wordlessly watched the hustle and bustle of the shop for a little while, until Jack spoke.  
"Sorry fer sittin' at yer table again," he said, glancing at Mark from the corner of his eye. "Especially when yer not here. Tha employees told me this was yer usual table, but I really wanted ta sit down. Sorry." Mark looked at him, and could see honesty in his eyes. He immediately began to warm up to the stranger.  
"That's okay," he replied, smiling warmly. Jack grinned happily.  
  
They sat there in companionable quiet for another few minutes, chatter floating around them. After a while, Jack picked himself up and dusted off his jeans. Holding out his hand once more, he smiled.  
"It was nice ta meet ya, Mark. I hope we get ta sit together again some time." he said jokingly. Mark reached out and took his hand, shaking it.  
"I agree. It was nice to meet you too, Jack! May we meet over coffee again!" he joked back. Jack laughed and started walking out, waving casually to Mark over his shoulder. Watching him through the window, Mark saw him shove his hands into his hoodie pockets and set off, his breath visible in the freezing air.  
  
\--

For the next few days, the coffee shop continued to be busy as all hell. Mark and Jack were forced to share the table for almost a week until the winter popularity began to die down. They got to know each other a little better, which pleased  Mark. He couldn't judge Jack's reaction, but he hoped the Irishman didn't mind.  
  
Sitting at their usual table, Mark saw Jack coming in to the shop. It was fairly empty for once, and Mark was wondering if Jack would still sit with him. Of course he wouldn't. That was stupid. He didn't need to, so of course he wouldn't.   
  
Despite himself, though, Mark found himself waving at Jack as he entered. The green-haired guy waved back happily, ordering his coffee and leaning on the counter until it was handed to him. Mark stared fixedly at the table, not wanting to watch Jack walking over to a different seat for the first time in a week. Instead, he was surprised when he sensed someone dropping themselves into the seat across from him. Glancing up from his sudden obsession with the table, he saw Jack grinning at him with that cute smile, putting his coffee down.  
  
"Looks like tha shop is gettin' less busy," he commented, glancing around. Mark couldn't help gaping at him, mouth open.   
"What?" Jack asked self-consciously. "Do I have somethin' on my hoodie?" He looked down, trying to locate whatever it was. Mark shook his head.  
"No, it's just... I didn't think you would sit with me today. Given that it's getting less busy and all." he said, hoping he wasn't making it worse. Jack laughed and shrugged, taking a gulp of coffee.  
"Yeah, well, it's been fun, this past week, huh? I fancied sittin' next ta ya again." Smiling, Jack added hurriedly: "If ya don't mind, that is. Am I bein' an issue?" Shaking his head again, Mark smiled.  
"No. I've had fun as well. I like you sitting there." he said, hardly believing he was saying it. Jack grinned at him and took another gulp of coffee as he dug something out of his pocket. Mark frowned and tried to see what it was, and found out when Jack put his phone down on the table.  
"I was thinkin', since we sit together so much anyway, I get yer number? I mean, we don't have ta, I mean I'm still sorta a stranger ta ya so..." Jack trailed off as Mark put his phone down on the table as well, grinning.  
"That's a great idea," he said, unlocking his phone and tapping on his contacts. He set up a new contact and nodded at Jack to indicate he should begin. Jack blinked, surprised, but began reeling off a number. Mark recorded it, labelled the contact Jack, and put away his phone.  
  
After repeating the gesture but for Mark, the American gulped down his coffee and shoved his phone in his pocket.  
"Sorry to rush off, but I gotta go," he said, glancing at his watch.  
"A'ight. See ya," Jack replied, sipping his coffee. Mark waved and hurried out of the shop, still amazed. He had managed to get Jack's number. How was that possible?  
  
He was about halfway down the road when a buzzing in his pocket stopped him in his tracks. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he read the text that had just come through, from Jack, no less.  
  
Jack: Same time, same place tomorrow for coffee? :)  
  
Mark grinned and began tapping out a reply. Even he could tell that this was the beginning of a friendship. Oh, how glad he was that he had shared his table that one time.   
  
Mark: Sure! Today was fun! :)  
  
Jack: Great! See ya then, Mark!  
  
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Mark pulled his coat tighter and walked on. He was excited.  
  
Same time tomorrow, there they were. Talking away like they had known each other all their lives. Anyone glancing in would think they were best friends, which they were. Well, after a few days. They had only known each other a little while, after all.  
  
~End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written so many feels in the past month or so, I just wanted some cute fluffy coffee shop AU to make me feel better. The weird little part of me that always wants feels in my stories was tempted to have Mark fall in love with Jack and then have Jack come in one day with Wiishu and show that he's as straight as a stripper pole (WHY). And like have Mark's heart be broken forever and he changes his usual coffee place and yadayadayada. C: I bet you're glad I didn't go for that. 
> 
> Anyway, here are Things I Should Say:  
> -Mark and Jack aren't YouTubers in this  
> -They're kind of out of character, but oh well  
> -I'm not good at writing T-T  
> -uhhh  
> -that's about it this time
> 
> Toodles! ^-^


	15. Oh, What The Hell ~Part 3~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark goes to a dark place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL YOU REMEMBER THIS SHIT STORM WELL IT'S BACK TO RUIN YOUR LIFE HAHAHAHHA
> 
> Recap in case you forgot:  
> Jack died in a plane crash when he was on his way to visit Mark, because Mark was in a dark place and needed Jack. Mark felt incredibly guilty and has fallen into a depression. He is seeing hallucinations of Jack everywhere. 
> 
> SO HAHAHAHAHAH I KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING FUCJ
> 
> I SHOWED MY FRIEND THE FEELS I WRITE AND SHE CALLED ME FANFIC SATAN
> 
> FEAR ME
> 
> F E A R M E
> 
> Enjoy the feelfest

Two weeks.

Two weeks since Mark lost the light of his life. 

Ever since a week ago, he had been having hallucinations all the time. Guilt and fear tore him into tiny pieces. He could hardly stand to even bring his head out from under the duvet at this point. Going on social media was bound to be a nightmare. He was certain that the only things he would see would be about Jack or worried about him. He couldn't stand that. 

After becoming increasingly hungry, Mark had begun to nibble at meals. Pain forced him to not eat much, but it was better than before. Better than a week ago.

Two weeks and a day.

Mark pulled a coat around him. He couldn't quite believe what he was doing. A usual Jack hallucination sat in his chair, watching him with a frown. Mark brushed past it, a tear almost escaping. The hallucinations were his daily horror, his nightmare, his terror of life. It wasn't that Jack was scary. It was that Mark felt the guilt and loss for his death like a knife to the heart.

Taking a deep breath, Mark pulled open the door. As he stepped outside, his heart rate doubled. This was the first time he had been outside his room since the crash. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, Mark noted the time. 8:45pm. Shrugging it off, he put his head down and began shuffling along the hall.

\--

"Mark?!" Matt exclaimed in disbelief. Him and Ryan sat at the table as Mark made his way past. Glancing up, Mark simply gave a small wave. Ryan and Matt put their heads together, and began muttering wildly. Obviously everyone missed Jack, so much, but this depression Mark had sunk into was so... sudden. So life-changingly brutal. 

Ignoring the Kids W/ Problems, Mark took a deep breath. Slowly, carefully, he pulled open the front door. A hallucination stood in the corner with folded arms, his green hair bright even in the shadows. A blast of cold air hit Mark, and he pulled his coat closer.

A single step brought him outside.

Not saying a word, the redhead leaned in and slammed the door. He shivered. Beginning to walk along the pavement, he realised there was someone next to him. A friend? But no, only the grinning face of Jack taunted him. That face of joy that he could never see again. That smile he reserved solely for Mark.

Staring at the floor fixedly, Mark followed his feet as they blindly led him the way he needed to go. Jack walked alongside him, silently. The hallucinations were always silent, and Mark hated it. It would be a little better if he could just talk to Jack, just hear his voice in person. This guilt and loneliness would be more bearable.

After a few minutes of walking, Mark felt warmth on his face, and heard laughter. The image of Jack seemed to disappear, to fizzle into thin air as Mark stared up at the building. Fear bubbled in his veins. 

He was staring at a bar.

It might not seem that scary, but add in an impossibility to drink alcohol and you have fear beyond control. Mark clearly remembered being told that he would die if he touched another drop of alcohol. He would die if he drank, but here he was, walking into a building where there was nothing but drinks.

Warm air blasted his face as he entered, and he looked around. People smiled, laughed, joked around. It all seemed impossible. Impossible that their lives weren't as broken as his. Shaking his head, Mark headed for the bar, and slid onto one of the stools. A smiley bartender made her way up to him.

"What'll it be, bud?" she asked cheerfully, a grin on her face. Mark shrugged.

"Whatever makes you forget," he whispered miserably, tiredly. The bartenders smile faltered, and she leaned in closer.

"Having a rough time of it?" she whispered conspiratorially. Mark nodded. "Oh, I get that. You wanna talk?" Shrugging, the American shook his head, and the woman's smile returned. "Well, I'm here if you need me. I'll mix you up a drink to make you feel better in no time!"

Jack sat beside Mark, looking at him disapprovingly. Mark shrugged.

"What?" he whispered to him, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Jack nodded at the bartender, who was mixing Mark a drink. Rolling his eyes, Mark hissed furiously.

"Listen, stop judging me for everything! I'm doing this to get over YOU, you asshole. And you can't even talk to me. You're  _dead._ " Turning back to face his front, Mark stared furiously. Clearing her throat, the bartender slid a drink over to him.

"There you go, sweetie!" She said cheerfully, smiling. Taking a sniff, Mark could tell it was potent stuff, positively dripping with alcohol. This was exactly the kind of drink he had been told to avoid (well, that was all of them, really). This could most definitely kill him.

He downed it in one.

\--

It took two more drinks for the tears to start. Staring at the table, Mark wiped at his face furiously as his vision distorted and blurred. Looking up, there were now two Jacks staring at him with disapproval and the slightest bit of pity. The bartender sidled over to him, leaning on the table.

"Hey, uh, you okay?" she asked, raising one perfect eyebrow. Mark nodded, disoriented. "I just hope you didn't drive here, because you are not fit to be anywhere near a wheel." 

"No," Mark replied, slurring his words. "I'm... I walked. I live close to... by." Shrugging, the bartender noticed she had new clients, and waved at Mark as she went to attend to them. Shortly after, yet another drink came sliding his way. Once again drinking it in one, like he had for all the others (despite them not being shots), he slammed it down on the table and rooted through his pockets, unearthing his wallet. He grabbed a few random notes and put them down on the table, getting up and hating how the room spun.

Walking outside and almost tripping, Mark zipped up his coat and began walking, stumbling as he went along. People gave him strange, almost pitying looks as he passed, but he didn't see them. All he saw was Jack. The green-haired hallucination was standing in front of him, hands on hips. Mark knew why his subconscious was making Jack so angry. He knew he was basically killing himself by drinking alcohol. He knew that hospital trips would probably follow. He knew he would have to spend time in hospital, as doctors tried to fix the damage he had done in his grief. 

Fuck it. He wasn't going back.

The thought came through in his blurred mind, surprisingly clear. The Jack image fizzled out, and Mark was left to make his way home, alone, with only his new determination spurring him on. If he didn't have the thought of defying the doctors, he might have stopped and let himself die right there. He might have given up. Hit his head on the concrete and never woken up. Would dying be quick? Painful? It wouldn't be painful. And if it was, he could get through it. Maybe he could see Jack again.

\--

Pushing the door open, Mark was surprised to see Ryan and Matt still sitting there, given that many hours had passed. Their heads whipped round as he entered, and two pairs of eyes widened as they saw Mark's state.

"Mark? Are you drunk?" Ryan asked, jumping out of his seat and walking over to Mark. Holding up two fingers, he looked Mark in the eyes. "How many fingers am I holding up?" Mark hiccuped.

"Four?" he slurred. Ryan and Matt shared a horrified glance.

"Jesus. You're fucking drunk." Matt said, pulling himself up as well. The two stood in front of Mark, looking at him angrily.

"You know that could kill you, right?" Ryan said, furiously. Mark shrugged and looked at the floor.

"Why?" Matt asked. "Is this about... Jack?" Snapping his head up, Mark was surprised by how much anger he found in himself.

"IT'S NOT ABOUT JACK!" he yelled, and Matt flinched. Ryan put his hands on Mark's shoulders.

"Okay, Mark, calm down. We can get you to the hospital, and maybe they can fix this," he said evenly. Mark shoved his hands away, furious.

"I'M NOT GOING TO... TO THE HOSPITAL!" he screamed. Who was this? He was never like this, even drunk. "THIS ISN'T ABOUT JACK! I DON'T NEED... NEED TO BE... I DON'T NEED THIS!" With tears streaming down his face, he shoved past his two roommates. They stood there, watching, as Mark made his drunken way down the hall. 

\--

Stumbling into his room, Mark slammed the door shut and grabbed the sides of his head, a headache forming. Ringing in his ears drowned out any other sound. Falling against the door, Mark slid down in until he was sitting on the floor. Covering his face with his hands, he began to cry. 

After he had been like that for a while, tears dripping into his lap, he saw Jack out of the corner of his eye. The Irishman was kneeling next to him, a hand on Mark's shoulder. But Mark felt nothing touching him. Fresh tears bubbled, and he started crying again as he looked at Jack's face. The big blue eyes were filled with worry, and sorrow, and Mark could see the slightest bit of pity.

"Don't look at me like that," Mark told him, voice cracking. The image stared back, reflecting Mark's pain. "You can't do anything to help me. You're just an image my mind made up to make me feel better. The real you is DEAD. Dead... and you're never coming back." Mark had meant it to sound angry and threatening, but his voice trailed off towards the end. He looked at the ground and stared as teardrops darkened the floor. His hallucination simply looked at him, embodying everything Mark didn't want to think about.

He stayed like that for the rest of the night, eventually falling asleep. Jack haunted his dreams as well.

\--

The next morning, Mark stumbled into the kitchen with a killer headache. He knew that he was probably going to die after drinking so much alcohol, but he didn't care. He would gladly take death. It was a better alternative than this.

"Mark!" he heard as he walked in, and internally groaned. Ryan jumped up and walked over to him, grabbing his wrists and examining his hands. "Okay, if we get you to the hospital now, you might stand a chance. Matt, can you-"

"I'm not going." Mark interrupted calmly. Ryan turned back to face him, slowly letting go of his hands. Matt started to get out of his chair.

"W...what?" the man asked, eyes widening. Matt jumped out of his chair and walked over to Ryan, grabbing his hand and holding it comfortingly.

"I'm not going," repeated Mark. Tears threatened to well up, but he refused to let them. The two men in front of him stared in shock.

"But, Mark..." Matt began. Mark shook his head and pushed past him, walking to the cupboard to get a bowl and some cereal. Beginning to make it calmly, he ignored his two roommates staring at him, as he sat down and began to eat.

On the outside, you could be forgiven for thinking he was totally calm. Nothing had happened to him at all.

On the inside, Mark was broken.

He could barely think straight, and everything he saw reminded him of Jack. Anything green looked like his hair for a second until he turned his head. An Irish accent made him whip his head around in a second. The name Sean stirred up something horrible in his stomach. Would it be easier to end it? To join Jack? To end ethe suffering and pain he was going through? To end all this shit he was taking? Leave behind everything? Would that be easier? Would it make it better? Mark thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this I was being made to feel like absolute shit by a friend so that was fun :v
> 
> I was also listening to a mishmash of songs so parts of it might be feelsy and others might not be.
> 
> My heart, stomach and chest really hurt and I'm not entirely sure why.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this part. I have a plan for what's going to happen, so look forward to that. However I have writers block rn so yknow.
> 
> Sorry I'm not feeling up to it rn.
> 
> -SSS ♡


	16. Criminal Offence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is an optimistic Irish police officer. Mark is a notorious criminal. Cell watch goes very badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should say before we start: I know next to nothing about police, jails, criminals or anything of that sort. Is this a bad idea? Probably. But, I had a really good idea for this, so I decided: FUCK IT. Why should I bother actually revising the topic I'm writing about? Pffft, are you mad?
> 
> Anyway, here's a Criminal/Police AU for you. I hope you enjoy it. Have fun!

Jack was bored.  
  
And not the good kind of bored, where you can get stuff done and you go into a kind of productive craze to get rid of the boredom.  
  
No. Jack was just plain //bored//.  
  
He was an officer at a large jail, and he had been put on cell watch. Vaguely, he thought he could remember something other than plain boredom. Cell watch was the worst thing you could do as an officer. It was just sitting on a hard little stool in front of a load of criminals. For hours. Fun.  
  
Sighing, he thought about home, and how he'd much rather be playing The Escapists than actually guarding real criminals. Leaning back on his stool, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He knew that if he got caught sleeping on the job that would be it for him, but he was careful. Sleeping on the job was a common occurrence for him. Most of the inmates were dozing anyway, in the summer heat.  
  
"Psst! Officer McLoughlin!"  
  
Opening one eye cautiously, Jack looked behind him at the cells. There was no movement except the rippling of air from criminal breaths. Shrugging, he turned back around and closed his eye again.  
  
"Hey! Over here!"  
  
The voice came again, still from behind him. Frowning, Jack opened his eyes and stood up, turning around. He spotted movement from the corner of his eye. A flash of red hair. A devious grin.  
  
Turning to face it, Jack crossed his arms. One of their more notorious inmates was sitting in the cell, grinning like a maniac. He had his legs crossed, sitting on his bed, and as Jack watched, he winked.  
  
"Fischbach, what are ya doin'?" Jack groaned. Fischbach, aka Mark, was one of the few criminals without a cellmate. They had deemed him too dangerous for that. Jack had no idea what he was in for, but based on what he had heard, it was bad.  
"I'm thirsty, Officer," Mark complained, still with that devious grin. Jack didn't trust that grin, but he had no choice. He had orders to guard the prisoners and keep them healthy, so he reached for a bottle of water from the pack next to his stool.  
  
With a frown, he passed it through the bars and waited for Mark to take it. The latter did so, but didn't open it. Shaking his head, Jack dropped back onto the stool and closed his eyes again.  
"Go ta sleep, Fischbach," he said sleepily. No reply. Settling himself down as comfortably as he could, Jack began to fall asleep. Just as he drifted off, he heard an annoyed noise from Mark's cell. Oh well, he thought. Shifting his position and adjusting his cap, he drifted off into sleep.  


* * *

  
  
After a little while, Jack's eyes flew open. Glancing at his watch, he sighed in relief. He had only been sleeping a few minutes. Looking at Mark, he frowned. The man seemed to be lying on his bed, fiddling with something. Jack frowned but said nothing, planning on taking another quick nap, and then hopefully his shift in cell watch would be over.  
  
Just as he closed his eyes, though, Mark's voice floated through the air.  
"Officer..." Jack groaned and opened his eyes.  
"What is it now, Fischbach?" he asked, dragging himself up.  
"Can you come in here and help me?" Mark asked pleadingly. Jack raised an eyebrow.  
"And how do I know this isn't a plot ta take me out?" he said skeptically, already turning back to the stool.  
"Don't you trust me?" Mark replied. Jack turned back, a laugh escaping his throat.  
"Of course I don't. Yer a criminal. Why would I trust a criminal?" Jack laughed. Mark turned to him, and words caught in his throat. Those big brown eyes were so trusting, so open, that he wanted to refuse them but found that he couldn't.  
"Because I was locked up for something I didn't do," Mark said, and he sounded ready to cry. "I was framed," he continued, looking up at Jack with those big brown eyes. Jack swallowed, hardly comprehending what he was going to do. He reached for the loop of keys on his belt.  
"A'ight. I'm gonna come in an' help ya with whatever it is, but this doesn't mean yer out fer good." he said nervously, throwing glances over his shoulder. They were the only awake people in the room.

Unlocking the cell cautiously, Jack pulled the barred door open, heart in his throat and hammering. His breath came shallow and fast, and he couldn't quite believe what he was doing. Mark stayed still, and Jack stepped carefully into the cell.  
  
In an instant he found himself pinned against the floor.  
  
Beginning to hyperventilate, Jack realised the full extent of what he had just done. Mark was sitting on top of him, holding his arms above his head, effectively stopping him from moving. The red-haired criminal was surprisingly strong. Trying to pull himself out of Mark's grip, Jack found himself simply held tighter against the floor.  
"This... is... assault... o' a police... officer!" he managed. Mark's arm was pressed against his neck, pushing down on his vocal cords. Mark simply shrugged. That devious smile had returned.  
"Do I care, though?" he asked, eyebrow raised. Jack coughed, his air supply limited by Mark's hold. "You're a gullible fool if you believed all that shit about being innocent. Why did they ever hire you?"  
  
Grabbing the bunch of keys from Jack's hand, Mark kept the officer against the floor. After a few minutes of low oxygen, Jack passed out on the floor, and Mark grinned. Dragging the unconscious policeman against the wall, Mark grabbed the shackles that had been lying there. They were solidly attached to iron pegs against the wall, and had only a few loops of chain to move around in. Mark knew they were impossible to escape. He had been locked in them for the first few days of his sentence, and he had tried every way he could to escape.  
  
Attaching them to Jack's wrists, Mark found the appropriate key and turned it in the locks, trapping Jack in the shackles. The Irishman was still taking his unplanned nap, and Mark grabbed the water bottle, putting it in reach of him. Then he grabbed the stool, and sat down in front of Jack to wait.  


* * *

  
  
About ten minutes passed, and Mark was getting irritated. Jack was taking an unusually long time to wake up. Growing impatient, Mark reached for the bottle of water again, and undid the lid. Throwing the lukewarm water in Jack's face, Mark sat back, satisfied.  
  
Spluttering and spitting, Jack woke up and immediately reached to get at Mark, flailing and hitting. His hand jerked back in midair, though, and he looked angrily at Mark.  
"What is this fer?" he near-yelled. Mark shrugged.  
"You're an idiot," he remarked casually. Jack glared at him.  
"I am an enforcer o' tha law, I'll have ya know-" he spat at Mark, furious.  
"Not any more," Mark interrupted in a sing-song voice. He twirled the cell keys around his finger and Jack watched them intently.  
"Now," Mark continued, throwing the keys up and catching them again. "You are going to stay in here until people come down here to find what's going on. And then... oh no! Bye-bye police badge. You allowed a dangerous criminal to escape. Silly Officer."  
  
Standing up intimidatingly, Mark put his foot onto Jack's chest. The smaller man was kneeling on the floor, and Mark pushed him further against the cold stone.  
"Get... off... me... ya... ya..." Jack said, struggling to think of an insult. Mark frowned.  
"You talk too much. I know!" Taking his foot off Jack's chest, he walked over to the bed and picked up a rag that he had obviously torn earlier. Walking back to Jack, he knelt down and stuffed the wad of fabric in Jack's mouth.  
"Hmmmagagkjkjnfffffgghhhh!" Jack yelled through the gag, attempting to make himself heard. Mark laughed and shook his head.  
"Have fun down here!" he giggled, turning around and sauntering off. Pushing the door closed, he put the key in the lock and turned it. It settled into its place with a satisfying click, and Jack watched it with horror.

* * *

 

Mark stretched as he wandered through the cells and into the lobby. As he entered, someone at the desk saw him.  
"Hey! How did you get out here?!" they yelled as they reached for an alarm button. Mark sauntered over as they fumbled through the mess, smiling lazily. Swinging his fist, he hit them on the head, as hard as he could. The receptionist dropped to the floor, eyes closed.

Reaching behind her, Mark tore down a picture of himself from a cork board with many notes and photos on it. Tutting, he scrunched it up and threw it into the bin, grinning as he got a perfect shot.

As he saw an officer come around the corner, he tensed himself to fight. The officers spotted him, and began to run. Bracing himself, Mark leapt at them, continuing to put into action his escape plan.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, a very angry Irish policeman was sitting on the cold cell floor, eyes narrowed.

Tugging uselessly at the chains holding him back, he attempted to reach his mouth, and eventually managed to twist into a position where he could pull the wad of dirty fabric out from his mouth. Coughing, he threw it to the floor, and spat until his mouth was dry.  
"Today is a terrible day," he said, wiping the spittle off his lip.  
"Don't I know it!" he heard someone yell from another cell, and laughter echoed around the room. Jack stiffened. The inmates were awake.

* * *

 

It took an hour of merciless teasing and outright verbal abuse until the criminals got bored. Jack had dozed off halfway through, not paying attention to their comments. Slowly, one by one, they began to drop off again, and Jack opened his eyes slowly. The jangle of keys snapped him out of his half-sleep and he looked up with his eyes half shut. They flew open when he saw who was standing there, though.

Sergeant Kjellberg was staring at him with an angry look, the set of spare keys hanging from his finger.

Jack was in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make this a two- or maybe three-parter instead of writing it all out as one and having a massive one like Memories or Good Morning, Mr McLoughlin. I already have a plan for this, which is good. I don't normally have a plan, but this one just popped into my head and I really like it.
> 
> I hope I got at least some of the criminal and police aspects right, but oh well. It was fun anyway ^-^
> 
> \---
> 
> If anyone is reading this, I'd like to give a massive THANK YOU to everyone who has left kudos, or left a comment, or even simply read it. Especially the comments, tbh. Reading through comments on my fanfics really make my day, because they're always so nice and happy and cheerful (or crying from feels, but yknow.) Getting that kind of feedback from people who have ACTUALLY READ my stuff makes me so happy and it honestly lights up my day.  
> I mean, I don't wanna go on about myself too much, but I've been having a pretty shit time of it at the moment, so reading such positive little things make me so happy. I don't know if I would even bother writing these if I didn't know there were people who liked them, so thank you so much.
> 
> Incidentally, I'd like to say that I take requests! Leave a comment down below if there's a scenario you want, and I'll do my best to write it! 
> 
> Like I've been saying, comments and constructive criticism are very very welcome! I do my best to reply to each and every individual comment, and even if I forget to reply I've most definitely read it, so feel free to ask me anything you want to know. 
> 
> Again, I love you guys! Mwah Mwah! I hope I'm doing an okay job of writing these and I'm not butchering them, because sometimes it feels like I am, and it's good to get an outsiders perspective.
> 
> Thank you! Love you! 
> 
> ~SSS ♡


	17. My Precious Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets gum in Mark's hair and has to convince him to cut it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a suggestion on the last chapter, so I decided to do it. I'm gonna write the longer one in a bit, but at the moment I'm kind of busy with life and stuff ^-^
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy something non-feelsy for once XD

"Oops."

Jack stared at the gum stuck in Mark's hair, biting his lip. The American looked upwards, confused. 

"What did you do?" he asked, attempting to see the top of his head. He reached his arms up, but Jack gently leaned down and pushed them against his sides again.

"I was, uh, leanin' on yer head, an' talkin' to ya, and my gum kinda fell outta my mouth?" Jack said, more a question than a statement. Mark pulled a face.

"Jack,  _gross!_ " he laughed, pushing the Irishman away. Licking his lips awkwardly, Jack looked away.

"No, I don't think ya get it. It's... stuck in yer hair." the green-haired man said nervously. Lifting his trademark cap off his head and running a hand through his hair, Jack stared at Mark fearfully. Going pale, Mark stood up stiffly and walked to a mirror. There was a wad of gum, very clearly stuck in his red hair.

"Jack, get rid of it!" he said, turning around angrily. Jack made a face.

"Ya can't... exactly... just get rid o' gum in yer hair," he explained quietly. Mark tilted his head. "It's gotta... be cut out?"

Going even paler, Mark's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

"You're kidding."

"Um, no. I know how much ya love yer hair-"

"Yes, I love my hair! You can't cut the floof!"

"Well, it's that or goin' around with a massive bit o' gum in yer hair."

"Ugh. This is so... nightmarish. It's horrific." Mark whined dramatically, and Jack frowned at him.

"Well? What'll it be?" he asked, crossing his arms and raising one bushy eyebrow. Mark groaned and stared at his reflection, wincing in overdramatic horror. With a slow sigh, he turned to Jack.

"I'll get the scissors."

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, Mark was sat in front of the mirror, cringing as he saw Jack brandishing the scissors. Batting his hand away every time the Irishman even got near his hair, Mark put off the moment as long as he could.

"Mark, yer gonna have ta cut it sometime. Stop puttin' it off." Jack said, crossing his arms. Mark scrunched up his nose and pushed his glasses back up. 

"Fiiiiine," he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. Jack sighed in relief and moved his hand towards Mark's hair, preparing to snip as few strands as possible. Pulling up the hairs that were stuck to the gum, Jack made a disgusted face. The gum had stuck to a massive clump of hair. Mark wouldn't be happy. Sighing, Jack brought the scissors close to the mass of hair, and started to close them-

"Wait!"

Mark's eyes flew open and Jack pulled his hand back reluctantly.

"What is it  _now?"_ he asked irritably. Mark bit his lip. 

"It'll look so weird," he complained. Jack rolled his eyes and brought the scissors closer. Ignoring Mark's protests, he carefully positioned the scissors, and-

**_Snip!_ **

The strands of red hair came away in his hand, and he chucked them into the bin, along with part of the gum. Carefully, he started cutting the hair until all traces of stickiness were gone.

"I'm done," Jack said, noting that Mark's eyes had been shut the whole time. Mark cautiously peeked one eye open, before opening them both fully.

There were a few seconds of silence.

"Jack," Mark said, in as calm a voice as he could muster. "What. The.  _Fuck._ Did you do to my hair?"

Jack looked at Mark's hair. There was a massive, obvious, almost bald patch in the middle of his head. Shrugging, Jack put the scissors down and backed away carefully.

"Um... sorry?" he attempted. Mark's frown deepened.

 "What am I gonna  _do?_ " the redhead complained, still horrified. Groaning, Jack crossed his arms and thought.

A few minutes later, Mark had stopped staring at the mirror and was now staring fixatedly at his phone, as if to distract himself. Jack was pacing back and forth, as if to think what to do, and then suddenly had an idea.

Feeling soft fabric land on his head, Mark looked up at his reflection. Jack's trademark cap sat on top of his head, red hair sticking out of it. Standing behind him, Jack ran a hand through his hair.

"Ya can borrow my cap fer a bit. Until yer hair grows back." he said after a few seconds of silence. Opening his mouth to say more, he was stopped by Mark standing up, turning around, and wrapping his arms around Jack in a hug.

"Thank you," Mark whispered into Jack's ear. "I really appreciate it."

Shocked, Jack looked at Mark, and the cap on his head. He smiled, before his arms wrapped around Mark as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that didn't go how I planned. Oh well. Good enough for me.


	18. Did He Really?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nighttime feels for you :')
> 
> I honestly have no idea what this is but heigh ho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm OK really hahahahahahahha no I'm not I never was
> 
> Honestly what is this
> 
> It's fucking feelsy, that's what it is.

He said he loved me. The words were music to my ears, the essence that made me myself. His careful touch always made me feel better. Those blue eyes of his were so trusting, so open, so happy. His green hair as bright as his smile and his personality. We had the perfect relationship. I was so happy. I thought we both were.

He said he loved me. As he slipped on his shoes and packed his bags, he told me he loved me. He kissed my cheek and ran a hand through my hair, as he had done so many times before. Like always, he told me he loved the colours. He always loved the colours. He loved me.

He said he loved me. Over the phone, over Skype, telling me he loved me. Telling me that he would always care for me. He didn't love me like I loved him. He didn't hold the same burning love. 

He said he loved me. He said it as he told me he had found someone else. He said it as he broke my heart. He said it as he ended the Skype call and his Irish accent disappeared.

He said he loved me. As he found and dated so many other people, he said he loved me. I never took my thoughts off of him. I loved him back. He said he loved me, but only as a friend.

He said he loved me. When we were awkwardly bumping into each other, knowing the love we had shared. He told me he loved me, but I knew he really didn't. He didn't care for me at all. Not even as a friend.

He said he loved me. I took it. I believed him. I trusted him. He broke my heart and forgot about it. The little Irish boy with the green hair and killer smile took my heart and threw it in the dust. But he said he loved me. He said he loved me. He said it.

 

He said he loved me, but did he really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I don't even know what that was. It makes no sense whatsoever but hey ho. It's late, I'm tired, and I'm v. confused. This fic doesn't even make sense but I hoped you like it anyway.


	19. Pretend Like You Know Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets stood up and a handsome stranger comes to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a shit ton of feels coming your way soon, so have some fluff.

_I'm sure she's just late,_ Jack thought, looking at his watch. And he hoped that she  _was_ just late. She was always a little bit late, but never more than one or two minutes. He was just too eager and early. Right?

"Are you ready to order, sir?"

A woman's voice broke Jack out of his thoughts. Glancing up, he saw the waitress standing there with her pad and pen and a big smile. 

"Oh, u-um... can I h-have a few more minutes, please?" he stammered, looking nervously at the door. Nodding, the waitress gave him a pitying look and walked away to serve someone else.

For the next hour, the waitress continued to come over at regular intervals and ask if he was ready to order, but Jack kept asking for more time, hoping against hope that she would show up. The employees began to give him dirty looks, as though they thought he wasn't going to order at all, and just sit there taking up a table.

Feeling more and more disheartened by the minute, Jack was starting to think he had been stood up. An entire hour had passed. People in the restaurant were beginning to give him sympathetic looks, as if they knew exactly what was happening here. His face heated up. Hot tears formed in his eyes. 

Staring hard at the table, Jack heard the conversation in the restaurant around him, catching words here and there. Occasionally he heard something about him, but at this point he couldn't care less.

As he was just about to get up and leave, he heard the scraping of the chair opposite him. Glancing up hopefully, Jack's eyes widened as he saw who was sitting opposite him. A handsome stranger, the most handsome stranger Jack had ever seen, was sitting opposite him, running a hand through his red hair. His glasses were knocked aside by his hand, and he smiled sheepishly, readjusting them.

"Sorry I'm late, babe, traffic was really bad on the way here. Have you ordered?" the man said, loud enough for everyone seated nearby to hear. Jack guessed that his mouth was hanging open, because the stranger leaned in and winked.

"Listen, I saw you sitting here and figured you had been stood up. I'm a nice guy, and you're pretty cute, so I decided to bail you out. Just pretend like you know me. I'm Mark."

"Jack," Jack breathed, tears filling his eyes. Mark grabbed a menu and started reading through it, looking for a drink to have. Jack did the same, his eyes glued on Mark. How could someone so nice (and hot) even exist? It seemed impossible. 

After a few minutes, the waitress came over and took their orders. Once she had left, Jack turned to Mark incredulously.

"Who are ya?" he asked, eyebrows pulling together. Mark shrugged.

"Just your average nice guy, looking to help someone out. I was gonna be eating alone anyway, so I figured I'd spare you the walk of shame."

"Thank ya," Jack said, finding himself blushing. Mark shrugged and fiddled with his napkin, smiling a little.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, who stood you up?" he asked suddenly, looking up through his eyelashes. Jack felt his heart stumble a little.

"Oh, she was just a date I've been seein' fer a couple weeks. I'm not sure if I really wanna be with her, though..." 

Jack frowned, thinking. Mark took a sip of his drink and looked away.

"Well, it's really not up to me, but anyone who would keep you waiting like that is a real bitch," he said, not meeting Jack's eyes. Jack giggled.

"Yeah, she's not tha greatest," he laughed, tapping his fingers against the table. Thankfully, he was saved from an awkward silence by the waitress coming by with a basket of bread.

Taking a piece from the basket, Jack shoved it in his mouth, to avoid any more questions. He wasn't sure if he could keep his thoughts about the stranger in his head. Mark watched him with interest.

"Sorry about this," he said suddenly. Jack looked up, already reaching for a new chunk of bread. 

"What do ya mean? It was nice o' ya."

"Well, I don't know if you even like men. I might have just ruined your reputation..." 

He looked so sad and forlorn that Jack couldn't help laughing. So  _that_ was what he was worried about.

"Oh, don't worry. My reputation isn't that good. I play video games fer a livin', fer gawd's sake!" he laughed. Mark's eyes lit up.

"No way! You play games too?"

"Yeah! That's awesome!"

Beginning to laugh, Jack felt his heart warm up to the stranger. Mark seemed nice. And he supposed they had a lot in common. Maybe the night wasn't ruined after all.

* * *

 

Feeling like a six-pack was coming on from laughter, Jack wiped away a tear. All night, Mark had kept him laughing and smiling. Not once had they run out of conversation, and friendly jokes were shared. Jack knew in his heart that he was extremely attracted to this man, but he pushed that feeling down and just focused on being friendly - and eating, of course.

Scraping the last bits of his dessert from the plate and eating them happily, Mark placed his fork down and grinned at Jack.

"Tonight was fun," he said, meeting Jack's eyes. Entranced, Jack could only nod.

"Y-Yeah..." he managed to get out. 

Smiling, Mark pushed his chair back and stood up. Jack did the same. He reached into his pocket to get out his wallet, but a soft hand on his arm stopped him.

"Don't worry," Mark said as Jack looked up at him in surprise. "I'll pay. To say thank you, for a great night." 

Slowly, Jack pushed his wallet back into his pocket and observed while Mark paid the bill. The redhead returned with a smile, and Jack had to refrain himself from skipping as he walked out of the restaurant. That had been the best date of his life. 

* * *

When they got outside, the cold air bit at Jack's face and hands. He shivered, and looked at Mark. The taller man seemed to be blushing, or maybe he was just flushed from the cold.

"Listen, uh..." Mark began, scratching his neck awkwardly. "I know that I'm a stranger and all, but..."

Jack tilted his head, looking up at him. Taking a deep breath, Mark blurted out what he needed to say.

"I think you're really cute and funny and I want to see you again! I want to meet up for another date!"

 There were a few seconds of silence.

Neither of them dared breathe.

Mark blushed and sighed.

Jack cracked a smile. 

"Well, obviously, ya doof!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all enjoy that? Yay!


	20. Sorry, Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack splits up with Mark and moves back to Ireland, and Mark doesn't take it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, someone (you know who you are) challenged me to make them cry. This feels bomb is dedicated to you, and may the feels be ever in your favour.
> 
> But seriously, this is feelsy. My friend helped me think up an idea, and we were upset by it XD
> 
> Have fun people. Toodles!

"Sorry, Mark..."

Jack at least had the decency to look sheepish as he hopped from foot to foot. Mark stared at him, his big brown eyes filling with tears. He couldn't believe this was happening. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

"I'm... I'm just confused..." he said, not quite trusting himself to look at Jack. The Irishman ran a hand through his green hair and sighed deeply.

"I just... can't stay here any more. I just can't. Sorry."

Mark felt his heart drop as he heard the sincerity in Jack's voice. This wasn't a prank. This was happening.

"But... why?" Mark asked, his voice sounding strangely small. He felt like he was drowning.

"I need some space. That's all."

Turning around, Jack returned to his suitcase. That was how Mark had found his boyfriend. Bent over his suitcase, plane tickets beside him, green hair sticking up every which way.

He was so perfect. And Mark wasn't. They didn't deserve to be together. At least that's what Mark thought. 

Is that what Jack thought? 

Is that why they were splitting up?

Is that why Jack was dumping Mark?

Mark was broken out of his daydream by Jack brushing past him, suitcase in hand. As the Irishman pushed open the door, Mark felt something in his heart break away.

"At least let me give you a lift," he blurted out. Jack turned around stiffly.

"Alright," he replied cautiously. 

Holding back tears, Mark walked past him. Jack trailed after, dragging his suitcase.

* * *

There was awkward silence in the car on the way there. 

Sean stared out of the window, his suitcase by his feet. Mark kept his eyes trained on the road, but every so often they would sneak back to Jack. 

So many memories were flooding back as he drove down the familiar roads. Memories of the initial stages of their relationship. Memories of car karaoke. Memories of road trips and laughter and stolen kisses and motel sex. Suppressing the urge to reach over and touch Jack's arm, Mark kept both hands firmly grasping the wheel, his mind turning over the same memories, again and again.

Where had he gone wrong? 

Blinking himself out of his reverie, Mark refocused on the road. The airport loomed in the distance, ominous and cold. There, he would say his goodbyes. Goodbyes to Jack, to memories, to their long-lasting relationship.

* * *

Pulling up in the airport car park, Mark stopped the car and drummed his fingers on the wheel. Jack picked up his suitcase and went to leave, but hesitated as he climbed out.

"I really am sorry, Mark. I just don't think we can be together any more. I'm just not seein' it." Biting the inside of his cheek, he held out his hand. "Friends?"

Mark stared at Jack's hand, before looking up at his face. It was so open, so trusting, so heartachingly perfect. Slowly, painfully, he reached out his hand and shook Jack's stiffly.

"F-friends,-" he replied, trying to smile strongly. As Jack climbed out, he paused, smiled, and shut the door.

As soon as he was out of sight, Mark leant on his steering wheel and wept.

_A Week Later_

Mark hadn't left his room in a week.

He just sat by his bed, staring at a framed photo of him and Jack. Sean was kissing his cheek, while winking at the camera, and knocking Mark's glasses askew. Mark was laughing in the photo.

For the third time that day, a single tear dripped onto the glass. 

Irritated, Mark wiped away his tears violently with his sleeve, knocking away his glasses. Readjusting them, he put his face in his hands and began to sob as quietly as he could. His energy was dwindling, along with his will to live. Jack had been his everything. 

* * *

As the light faded from the city skyline, and windows flicked into tiny lamps, Mark stood in his bathroom. Another day or two had passed, and he had barely moved from his room. Barely eating, barely sleeping, definitely not recording. At one point he had felt brave enough to watch one of Jack's videos, but he abandoned that idea before the intro had even finished.

With shaking hands, he ensured the door was locked and reached slowly for the item on the shelf. Trembling fingers brought it down, and almost dropped it in his fear. His breaths became shallow with fear. The item was brought to his skin by a shivering hand.

Unsteadily, carefully, he sliced the razor across his skin.

Beads of blood immediately swelled up and trickled down his arm. Fresh tears formed in the corners of Mark's eyes at the bittersweet relief of the pain. His breathing quickened as blood ran down the sink and into the drain. He could barely believe it had come to this. He had been reduced to nothing, less than nothing. All he could feel was pain and love. So much love, and not enough pain. 

That's why he chose to slice again.

And then again.

Once more.

Gripping the sides of the sink, Mark stared at his reflection. His breathing was harsh and fast, reflecting his panic. Blood ran down from the four shaky cuts on his arm, down the basin and into the drain. Pale and shaking, Mark Fischbach stared at the mirror and sighed in relief at the welcome pain.

At least it drowned out his love for Jack.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Mark's arms and legs were covered in bleeding scars. He was in constant pain, and that was just how he liked it. Distracted by pain that was unrelated to his broken heart. Thinking about anything other than Jack.

But it didn't work.

No matter how much blood stained the sink and floors, no matter how many scars covered Mark's body, no matter what he did, his thoughts kept returning to Sean.

And every time he did, he was surer and surer that he still loved Jack. Every day, he regretted everything they didn't do, and every hour he remembered everything they did. And he wasn't sure which was worse.

Through everything, he had been too scared to upload any new videos. Instead, he posted old stockpiled videos, but his store was running low, and he couldn't keep going for much longer. Fans were beginning to notice that his schedule was off, that he didn't have his usual energy. He couldn't record any more videos. Moving around your hands as much as Mark did meant someone was bound to catch a glimpse of his scars, and then what would he do? Just explain what had happened? No. He couldn't do that.

Mark's internal struggle and self harm continued, for another week. His blood ran cold every time he saw himself, and he just wanted to claw at his face, get rid of it, destroy it for good. He felt so worthless. So useless. So unnecessary.

But.

He still loved Jack. And he wanted to see him, to hug him, feel his soft green hair, kiss his stubbly cheek. Feel every inch of Jack's skin against his own. Have Jack back in his arms. 

That night, Mark went on his computer. He found a travel agent website. Taking a breath, Mark carefully booked one return ticket to Ireland. He printed his ticket out and held it close to him. That was his ticket to Jack, his ticket to his love. He just hoped Jack would want to see him. 

The next morning, he got a text, the first one he had been interested in since the breakup.

It was from Jack.

Mark's eyes lit up as he read the name. His heart leaped to his throat and began thudding. Was this it? Was he about to get his love back?

But then he read it.

Jack: I hhate yoou. Youree hprrible. No one lieks you. You're wortheless an I never wamted tp b e wit you annywayh 

And that was the final straw. 

Leaving his ticket on the side, he walked through the house like a zombie. Starting up his car, he drove out into the town and found a little hardware shop.

There, he bought a long, thick rope.

* * *

It took three days for Mark to work up the courage. The rope had been curled up in his room, ominous and obvious. Every time he looked at it he felt a wrench in his gut. He could barely move without wincing from guilt and pain. His cuts were sore and ached with every movement. The pain was welcome but bittersweet. 

Pulling himself up off his bed, Mark pushed his phone into his back pocket. Reaching for something to fasten the rope, he found a staple gun lying on his desk. God knows why that was there. Leaning over, Mark picked up the rope and held it in his hand, staple gun in the other. 

Clutching the rope to his chest, Mark felt a single tear make its way down his cheek and fall onto the floor. He dragged his chair across and began to climb on, another tear trickling down his cheek. Reaching upwards with shaking hands, he went to staple the rope to the ceiling-

and felt a buzzing in his back pocket.

Confused, Mark wiped away his tears and took his phone out of his pocket. His breath caught in his throat as he read the sender. This wasn't possible.

Jack: I'm so sorry for the message I sent you. I was super drunk, and I wasn't thinking straight... forgive me? I miss you loads :/

Slowly climbing down from the chair, Mark placed the staple gun and rope down. He reread the message, and stared at his screen for a few seconds. After a heartbeat or two, his eyes travelled to his desk. 

The plane ticket to Ireland seemed to scream at him. It almost glowed in the light, and Mark knew exactly what to do.

Within seconds he was packing essentials into a small suitcase, picking up the ticket and putting it into his pocket, before flying out of the door.

* * *

A few hours later, Mark stepped out of the plane and walked into the terminal. Breathing in the stuffy airport air, Mark knew that he was close to Jack. He could sense it.

Allowing himself to be jostled around, he glanced around at everyone. Many of the people around him had Irish accents, and it almost physically hurt to hear people with voices so similar to Jack's. 

Taking a deep breath, Mark pulled back his shoulders, tugged his sleeves over his scars, kept his head high and began pushing through the crowds as confidently as he could. It didn't take long for the facade to crumble, though. Before long he was slumping over and wishing he was anywhere but there.

At least he had the chance of making up with Jack. Maybe they could get back together?

* * *

Mark stood at Jack's house, taking deep breaths and giving himself a mental pep talk. Setting his suitcase down, he dusted off his hoodie and jeans and pressed the doorbell as confidently as he could manage. 

Silence.

Frowning, Mark pressed it again. There were a few more beats of silence, and he figured maybe Jack was out, until he heard faint, muted laughter. The laughter became clearer and clearer until suddenly the door swung wide open.

Jack stood there, hair messy, with a girl hanging on his arm, her arm around him. A flash of confusion ran across Jack's face.

Dead silence.

The two stared each other down.

It ended up being the girl who started the conversation. She pulled Jack close to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"I'll leave you two to it, shall I?" she asked, before winking and turning around, walking back down the hall. Jack stared after her longingly before turning back to Mark. The two men spoke at the exact same time.

"What are ya doin' here?"

"Who was that?"

 Closing the door behind him, Jack leaned against the wall and folded his arms. Mark shuffled awkwardly.

"Well?" Jack said after a few seconds of tense silence. "What are ya doin' here?"

"I, uh... you said you missed me, so..."

"That's not an invite ta visit me, ya doof!" Sean said, but his eyes weren't joking. They were deadly serious. 

"Who was that?" Mark blurted out, immediately wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Jack's face darkened.

"My new girlfriend," he said stiffly, shifting position. Mark's mouth inadvertently fell open.

"Y-You replaced me..." he stuttered. Jack didn't make eye contact. 

"No. I moved on from ya. I hope we can still be friends, but I don't wanna be with ya. That's all."

"I get it," Mark said, fighting back tears. Shuffling his feet awkwardly, he wished he hadn't come.

"Have you changed your house? It seems different," he asked nervously in an attempt to make conversation. Sweeping his arm in a wide arc to demonstrate how it looked different, for a second his sleeve slid down his arm. A flash of red. Jack's eyes narrowed.

"What's this?" he asked, grabbing Mark's arm and pulling it towards him. He pulled Mark's sleeve up and Mark made a feeble attempt to push it back down. But no, his cuts were on display, and Sean looked up at him, his eyes flashing with mixed anger and pity.

"What tha fuck have ya been doin' ta yerself?" 

"It's... nothing!"

Jack's eyes travelled up Mark's arm, and suddenly let go. Mark yanked his sleeve back down, going red.

"You've... been... hurtin' yerself? Because o' me?" the Irishman asked slowly, blinking very hard. Mark bit his lip.

"You don't want me around, anyway." he said, not meeting Jack's eyes. Sean's face hardened.

"That's right. I broke up with ya and moved back here fer a reason." he said evenly. Nodding, feeling his heart break for the second time, Mark turned around slowly. Walking down the path, he stopped at the gate.

"I still love you, you know." he said quietly, not turning around. No reply. 

"That's all. I love you, Jack."

And with that, he opened the gate and began walking away. Jack never said a word.

* * *

Sitting alone on the plane, Mark attempted to wipe away his tears. 

  _Keep it together, Mark,_ he told himself firmly. Taking a deep breath, he looked out of the window as the plane took off. Ireland grew smaller and smaller, and further and further away. Eventually it disappeared, and Mark sat back, attempting to keep it together.

* * *

As soon as he entered his house, the tears started. Walking into his room, he slammed the door and allowed the tears to stream down his face. Picking up a pen and a piece of paper, he began to write.

_Dear Everyone,_

_I'm sorry. Please upload something telling my fans I'm sorry. My computer is logged in. I'm so sorry, to all of you. I just can't do this any more._

_And Jack..._

_I'm sorry to you in particular. I loved you so much, and I couldn't help myself. Knowing you didn't love me... I couldn't live with that pain. I'm sorry._

_To all of you. I'm sorry._

_I just couldn't handle it any more._

_-Mark_

Leaving the piece of paper, tearstained and hastily written, on his desk, Mark picked up the rope and staple gun and stood on his chair. Stapling the rope to the ceiling at the right length, he pulled on it to check it would take his weight.

It stayed.

The tears were coming thick and fast now, pouring down his face and dripping onto his body and the chair. With trembling fingers, he tied a loop into the rope, large enough for his head. He took a deep breath. This was it.

Carefully, he placed his head into the noose, so it was around his neck. The chair was the only thing keeping him alive right now. Composing himself, not bothering to wipe away the tears that streamed down his face, he went to kick the chair away. Hesitation stopped him, but he set his jaw hard and kicked it away.

* * *

As soon as Mark had left, Jack had thought long and hard. The more he thought, the more he realised. And the more he realised, the more he knew. And what he knew, was that he loved Mark. He still loved him.

Frantically, he threw items into a suitcase, not unlike the one Mark had had. A cough stopped him in his tracks. Turning around, he saw his girlfriend, standing at the door.

"What are you doing?" she asked, raising one perfect eyebrow. Jack continued to pack, as fast as he could. He was throwing whatever he saw in there, and finally locked it and turned around.

"I'm sorry," he said, walking towards the door. "We can't be together any more. I realised... I love someone else."

"Is it that Mark guy?" she asked, blocking the door. Sean fought with himself, until finally giving in.

"Yes," he said shortly. "It is. Now move."

"No," she replied, sticking her chin up defiantly. Shoving her out of the way, Jack pushed himself into the hall.

"I want ya out o' here by tha time I'm back," he said, not looking at her. If he had looked, he would have seen that she was setting her jaw angrily, grinding her teeth together, and scrunching up her nose. But instead he pushed on, making his way out of the door and beginning to run.

* * *

As he flew across the ocean, Jack hoped against hope that he wasn't too late. 

_Please, Mark, don't do anything..._ he willed the American.

The plane continued it's lazy path across the sea, and Jack continued to pray in his mind. 

_Please, Mark... I'm sorry..._

* * *

As he kicked the chair aside, Mark jerked downwards so he was hanging from his neck. Immediately he felt his oxygen supply disappear. Gasping and spluttering for air, he felt his strength draining. No air was reaching his lungs, and slowly his body grew still. His eyes fluttered shut, and everything grew dark.

A single tear rolled down his cheek and dripped onto the floor, and Mark grew still, swinging gently from the ceiling by his neck.

* * *

Jack was rushing through LA as fast as he possibly could. His feet and lungs burned, but he kept sprinting.

_Please still be there,_ he pleaded with Mark in his mind.

His breath coming short and fast, Jack sprinted along the streets. People gave him weird looks as he dashed along, but he ignored them.

Eventually he reached Mark's house and tried the door. It swung open and he rushed in. Ryan had been standing by the door on his phone, and almost dropped it when he saw Jack. Opening his mouth to say something, he was interrupted by Sean rushing past him, paying him no heed. There would be time to explain later.

With his heart pounding and hope blossoming in his chest, Jack reached Mark's door. New hope rose, and he burst the door open.

"I LOVE YA T-" 

Jack stopped halfway through his sentence. Pain ran through him, feeling like it was cracking him in half.

Mark's body swung before him, cold, limp and dead.

His heart shattered.

Whimpering, Sean dropped to his knees. No words escaped his mouth. Only noises of pain and suffering, like a wounded animal. A tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another. And another, and another, until his eyes were streaming and he couldn't even see for tears.

"MARK!" he screamed, throwing his head back. Clutching at the floor, desperate for something to grab hold of, he felt himself tear in two. The pain was unbearable.

Sobbing uncontrollably, Jack was howling as though his life had ended. And in a way, it had. 

Every time he glanced up, he saw Mark's body again, limp and unresponsive. Mark was never that cold and empty. Feeling a fresh batch of tears leaking from his eyes, Jack began screaming again. Wordless screams for help, for rescue, for Mark.

"I'm so... so... sorry... Mark..." he choked out through his tears.

Mark just swung there, unable to reply. Cold. Empty. Dead.

"Mark.. I'm s...sorry..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.
> 
> Well.
> 
> Well then.
> 
> Um.
> 
> Did you like that? :D
> 
> Oh, who am I kidding. That was awful. It didn't turn out nearly as well as I wanted it to. Ugh, this isn't even near the best thing I've ever written (which, incidentally, is Memories, fyi). 
> 
> Well, did you like it anyway? Did it make you at least a little sad?
> 
> Oh well. Hope you enjoyed this kind-of feelsy thing. It was badly written, and probably didn't even convey what I was trying to say, but ah well.
> 
> Toodles and on we go! :)


	21. Rollercoaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That ol' favourite I posted ages ago :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, someone suggested I add this to my oneshot collection, so here it is. That old fluffy thing I wrote ages ago. God, my writing has improved since then. Ah well! Hope you enjoy rereading it!

"Mark... please don't make me do this..." Jack begged as the other dragged him through the crowds by his hand.  
"C'mon! It'll be fun!" Mark called back, pulling Jack into the queue. He looked up at the rollercoaster looming above him and gulped, turning to Mark with fear in his eyes.  
"Mark... I swear..." Jack began, but was cut off by a theme park employee directing them into one of the cars together. He tried to ask the employee to let him leave, but she just firmly told him to get in the car. He reluctantly climbed in next to Mark, feeling the fear build up in his throat again.  
"What's wrong?" Mark asked, noticing the look of terror on the Irishman's face.  
"I.. I'm scared... of... heights..." Jack said, barely moving his lips as his eyes studied the coaster again. Mark was about to say something, but at that point the car started moving, shooting off into an immediate upwards climb. He started laughing at the speed, but Jack was just staring at the climb ahead of them.  
"I wanna get off.." Jack said, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Mark could tell he was seriously terrified, and bit his lip. He knew this was his fault, that he shouldn't have dragged Jack onto this. But he hadn't wanted to go on alone, and Bob and Wade had gone off somewhere. Every time he glanced at Jack's terrified face a fresh wave of guilt washed over him.  
Jack was just trying to stop himself from crying when he felt a warm arm wrap around him and pull him to Mark's side. Mark's other hand came up and wiped the tear off of Jack's face.  
"At least you're not alone, huh?" Mark asked, keeping Jack pinned to his side. Jack smiled weakly up at him, and closed his eyes. At least he was with Mark. If he wasn't with the floofy-haired American, Jack didn't think he would be able to cope.  
"Yeah. At least I've got you." Jack replied, and snuggled closer to Mark. When they were sitting like that, Jack felt like he couldn't be scared of anything. He even found himself enjoying some of the ride. Whenever Mark shifted, he would simply snuggle closer to him again. It was as though Mark kept all his fears away, and for the first time in his life he actually enjoyed something high up. And it was all because of Mark. They stayed snuggled together for the rest of the ride, and Jack enjoyed every moment of it.  
They got to the end, and Mark got up to start to leave, as were most of the people. Some of them were staying on the ride to go again, though. As Mark began to climb out, he felt a tug at the bottom of his shirt. Turning around, he saw Jack staring up at him with messy green hair and shining eyes, full of joy, totally different to the scared Jack he had seen at the beginning of the ride.

"Mark... can we go again?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also posted this to kind of make up for the feelstorm last chapter. Bcuz yknow, I may be evil but I'm not all bad.


	22. Nightmare ~Sorry, Mark Epilogue~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little extra that comes after Sorry, Mark (bcuz you all needed this)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is fun! Don't worry, I decided to make it cute and fluffy and it's not gonna have feels at all. Trust me on this.
> 
> Oh yeah, and thank you in advance for 3000 hits! That's awesome!
> 
> Like I said, no feels. Enjoy your fluff.

Sitting bolt upright in the pitch black room, Jack felt his heart racing. That had been a horrible nightmare. Mark... mark had died. Looking over at the sleeping figure beside him, his breaths became a little steadier.

As he stared at the wall, Jack felt warm arms wind their way around his body. Mark snuggled up to him, his hair messy from sleep.

"What's wrong, babe...?" he muttered tiredly. Jack looked down at him, and felt so much love that he could hardly bear it. Diving on top of Mark, he began kissing every inch of his face, before lying down on top of him.

"Hey, hey, what's all this?" Mark laughed, a bit more awake now. Sean cuddled him, lying on top of him.

"I had a nightmare," he whispered, burying his face in Mark's chest. Mark's face grew serious, and he ran his hand through Mark's hair.

"Oh, okay. Would you like to tell me about it?"

Sean nodded, rolling off of Mark and just snuggling at his side instead. Mark's strong arms encircled his body, and he felt safe.

"Well... we were dating, an" then I broke up with ya, an' moved back ta Ireland.. an' ya got all depressed, an' started hurtin' yourself.." 

At this point, Jack grabbed Mark's arm and examined it, as though checking for scars. Seeing none, he sighed in relief and dropped his arm again.

 "An' then ya came ta Ireland ta see me, but I had a new girlfriend, an' ya went home, but I split up with her an' came ta visit ya, but when I got there... y-ya were d-dead..."

By the end of it, tears were running down Jack's face. He felt a warm hand wrap around his head and pull him close.

"Sssh, it's okay, I'm here, it's all gonna be okay. It's all gonna be fine," Mark whispered reassuringly, wiping away Jack's tears. Sniffing, Jack drew closer to Mark and buried his head in the older man's chest, sighing happily. He was back where he belonged.

* * *

 

Sitting bolt upright in the pitch black room, Jack felt his heart racing. As he looked around in the darkness, he saw no sleeping figure next to him. No warm arms wrapped their way around his body. There was no Mark.

His head dropping into his hands, Jack felt the pain of that moment all over again. The moment he opened the door, ready to confess his love all over again, and saw Mark's body. Hanging from the ceiling, limp, broken, lifeless.

That had been no nightmare. That had happened.

Mark was gone.

And there wasn't a thing Jack could do about it.

Feeling the first tears run down his face, the memories flooded Jack's brain. There was no Mark any more. He would never again have the cheerful redhead to comfort him when he had a bad dream.

But that hadn't been a nightmare at all.

Jack whispered the same words he always did into the darkness. Every night, the same dream awoke him, and every night, he repeated the words.

"I'm sorry, Mark."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied! :D


	23. Gay Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm pretending to be your bf because you looked VERY uncomfortable with that guy at the bar hitting on you" AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, no lies this time. Take your lil thing ya fookin nerd.
> 
> Nah, just kidding. I love you guys! Have some kind of fluffy AU shit. Enjoy!

Jack hunched over his glass, staring at the bar. His vision was vaguely blurred, and his mind was ever so slightly fuzzy, but not so much that he couldn't think straight. 

Well. He couldn't exactly think "straight" in any case.

Sighing, he turned around and watched his friends getting up close and personal with some buff strangers. The gay bar had a great reputation, and Jack had thought it would be fun to come here. As soon as he had arrived, though, he had regretted it.

A whole bunch of his male friends had come, despite a lot of them already being in relationships. For instance, Dan and Phil had been making out in a corner since they had arrived. All of the others were having fun, dancing and grinding on random guys.

All except Jack.

The Irishman had stayed huddled at the bar the whole time, frowning into his glass. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so angry, bit there was something inside him that just did not want to be here.

"Hey there sexy,"

A voice broke Jack from his thoughts. Looking up, he saw a muscled guy, not unattractive, winking at him. 

"You're pretty cute," the stranger slurred. Leaning away slightly, Jack nodded.

"Um, thank ya?" he said in a slightly wavering voice. The man leaned into him, his breath stinking of alcohol. Sean moved away as far as he could, trying not to let the man touch him.

"Aww, don't be like that," the man said, putting his arm around Jack. "You an' me, we could have a lot of fun together, back at my place..."

"Hey!"

A voice came out of nowhere over the pounding music. The drunkard let go of Jack and backed up, and Sean looked up in surprise. A redheaded man, sexily attractive, was standing over him, arms crossed and muscles bulging. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing, hitting on my boyfriend?" the handsome stranger continued aggressively. Getting up, the drunk man whimpered and ran away, taking his drink with him. Dropping into the seat next to Jack, the stranger smiled.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly, and Jack was struck by the concern in his voice. Nodding slowly, he took in the man before him.

"I'm fine. Thank ya."

"Yeah, sorry about that. You just looked really uncomfortable with that guy hitting on you. I'm Mark, by the way." 

"Jack.." Sean replied, tripping a little over his words. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted that the creepy stranger had completely disappeared, and he relaxed for the first time.

"If you want, I could keep pretending to be your boyfriend," Mark offered. "Yknow, so no more creepy dudes try and hit on you?"

Turning back around, Jack smiled. He let his eyes drink in this hot stranger, and nodded happily.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had more things planned for this but writers block and general laziness stopped me. I hope you enjoyed it anyway :D


	24. Oh, What The Hell ~Part 4~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember this? Well, I needed to carry it on bcuz I'm very bad at updated continuous things.
> 
> Recap in case you forgot:  
> Jack died in a plane crash when he was on his way to visit Mark, because Mark was in a dark place and needed Jack. Mark felt incredibly guilty and has fallen into a depression. He is seeing hallucinations of Jack everywhere. After having enough, he went out and got drunk, despite being perfectly aware it could kill him.
> 
> So, hope you're glad this is back! :D

Lying on his bed, Mark stared at the ceiling, wishing he had tears left. His eyes were dry and empty. His body felt broken, and he didn't want to move at all. 

"Mark?"

A voice came at the closed door, accompanied by a knock. Mark simply cast a glance towards the door and didn't answer.

After a couple of seconds, he heard footsteps walking away. Returning to staring hard at the ceiling, Mark prayed that his dreams wouldn't be haunted by Jack once more.

His prayers didn't come true.

As he drifted off to sleep, he had the vague sensation of floating. His brain shifted into a dream, and everything went blurry.

When his mind adjusted to the dream, he was standing in a forest, surrounded by trees. As he stood there, the trees shrunk, or perhaps he grew, until he was the same height as them. Looking around, confused, Mark could see nothing but trees. 

Relaxing, he thought that his dream would be okay for once. His shoulders dropped as he exhaled, but that was before one of the trees started stretching and distorting.

As he watched, the tree warped and changed. The bark paled and became smooth, warm skin. Two knots turned into eyes, softening to a clear blue. The leaves melted into one another until they were green hair. Slowly, the tree morphed into a man, a very familiar man.

Mark took a shaky step forward. Jack stood before him, arms open. Feeling himself tear up, Mark fell into the Irishman's open arms and let himself sob.

"It's okay," Jack repeated, running his hands through Mark's hair. "It's okay."

Barely able to believe it, Mark ran his hands up Jack's body and face, desperate to touch every inch of him. Letting go and standing up, he smiling weakly, tears running down his cheeks.

"I love you," he said. As he spoke, the other trees that had been surrounding them began to morph and change. Mark looked around, scared, and watched as the trees changed. They began to warp into his friends and family, and as he and Jack looked on, they began to chant the same words, all of them in unison.

_"It's all your fault... It's all your fault..."_

Watching, scared, Mark felt uneasy. As more of the trees changed, the louder the words became, taking over everything else. His friends and family began to move towards him, still chanting, and Jack became lost in the crowd.

"Jack!" Mark screamed, seeing him disappear from sight. He stretched out his hand, but Sean was lost to the sea of faces and bodies and voices, taking over everything. 

As he stood, reaching for Jack, the people around him pressed in on him, drowning his thoughts with the chant.

_"It's all your fault... It's all your fault..."_

"Shut up!" Mark screamed, covering his ears and shaking his head. "Shut up shut up shut up!"

Dropping to his knees, Mark shook his head violently. Everyone he knew pressed in on him, constantly chanting, drowning everything else out. Every time he glanced up he caught a glimpse of Jack, but he was so far away now there was no point.

Beating at the ground with his fists, Mark wept teats of rage and sorrow, while everyone around him drilled into his head with their constant repetition.

_"It's all your fault... It's all your fault..."_

* * *

Sitting bolt upright, Mark felt a small scream escape his lips. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he felt sweat dripping down his face. That had been an awful nightmare. The worst part was, he could remember every moment in vivid detail, almost as if it had really happened.

The chant from his dream echoed in his head, ringing in his ears and destroying all other thoughts, except for the lingering thought of Jack, that never truly left his head.

_"It's all your fault... It's all your fault..."_


	25. Not an Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That was not an invitation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take some fluff to recover from that nightmare bomb last oneshot. I wrote this from a prompt that I have now lost. Well done me.

Jack sat on the sofa, his legs tucked up next to him, scrolling through comments on his phone. Mark sat next to him, also scrolling through something. Both were occupied with their own thing, but both were happy with the companiable silence. 

Stretching, Jack shivered and pushed himself upwards. As he stood, he stretched out his arms, and his phone slipped from his fingers. It made a loud clatter on the floor, and Jack scowled.

"Oh, fuck me," he grumbled, bending over to pick it up. As he straightened up, he turned around and saw Mark looking at him with a devious smile. Every inch of his evil smirk screamed mischief.

"That wasn't an invitation," Jack said, folding his arms and taking a step back. Mark placed his phone on the sofa and stood up. 

"I mean it. Leave me alone," Jack continued, his heart hammering. Mark got closer to him, humming in a low voice. With a sexy smile, he got up in Jack's face, which was now blushing furiously.

Placing a hand under Jack's chin, Mark leaned in close to his ear, still humming sexily. He got close enough for Jack to feel his soft breath brushing his ear, which set his heart off like a drum.

The closer Mark got, the redder Jack became, and the faster his heart raced. Mark pulled closer to his ear, close enough for his lips to brush Jack's ear. He opened his mouth to speak, and Jack held his breath. What dirty phrase would Mark come up with this time?

"I think..." Mark breathed softly, and Jack barely moved. "we should get Chinese for dinner."

Returning to the sofa and sitting down, Mark resumed scrolling through his phone, still humming softly. Jack stood there, dazed and shaking, with his heart skipping. After a few seconds, he came to his senses and scowled at Mark. 

"Oh, ya piece of shite-" Grabbing a pillow from the sofa, Jack began to attack Mark with it.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Mark laughed, holding his hands up to fend off the barrage of blows. After a few minutes of attacks, Jack cooled off and flopped down on the sofa next to the older man.

They sat in frosty silence for a few minutes, Jack silently seething. He calmed down as time went on, sighing. Mark glanced over at him, and he looked back.

"Yeah. Chinese sounds good."


	26. Criminal Offence -Part 2-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry, Officer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take this, whatever it is. I honestly don't know. It's a continuation of the criminal/police AU I did a while back, y'all remember that?

Jack stood in front of Sergeant Kjellberg, staring hard at the ground. Felix Kjellberg sat in front of him, feet propped up on the desk. 

"So." Kjellberg spoke after a long time. "Officer McLoughlin."

"Sir," Jack replied, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. Lacing his fingers together, Felix looked long and hard at Jack, and began to talk once Jack was squirming under his steady gaze.

"McLoughlin. Today, you have disappointed me."

Opening his mouth to speak, Jack was waved down by the Swedish blonde. Bringing his legs off the table, Felix stood up and began to make his way towards Jack.

"You have allowed our most dangerous criminal to escape, after letting him trick you, lock you up and steal your keys." By now Felix was standing in front of Jack. Despite them being similar heights, Sean felt like Felix was towering over him intimidatingly.

"Sir, I-"

"Do not interrupt me!" Felix spat. Jack's eyes returned to the floor.

"Yes, sir," he said, his eyes welling up. Felix's face softened.

"I'm sorry, Officer," he continued, his eyes pitying. "I'm going to have to relieve you of your duties."

Eyes widening, Jack looked up in fear. This job was his everything. Ever since he could remember he had dreamed of being a police officer.

"Sir, I... I... I can fix this! Let me capture him! Let me arrest him!" Jack cried, in a vain attempt to receive mercy. Shaking his head slowly, Kjellberg reached out. His hand removed Jack's hat from his head and placed it on the desk, and Jack felt like crying.

"I apologise for this, McLoughlin," Felix said. Jack didn't reply.

In one smooth move, Felix tore Jack's police badge from his chest and placed it next to the hat on the table. Jack stared hard at the floor and allowed a single tear to drip down his cheek.

"I understand, sir." he said quietly, breathing very hard. His head snapped up suddenly and he held his hands in fists, his face screaming determination. "But, sir! Give me one last chance! Let me at least try ta catch him!"

Felix took a deep sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose. "McLoughlin..."

"Please, sir! I'll give it all I've got!"

Laughing a little, Felix placed his hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Listen, McLoughlin.  I like you. You're a funny guy. I'll make you a deal. If you can catch Fischbach alone, with no badge or status, then I'll allow you your job back. And, tell you what, I'll even give you a promotion! How does that sound?" Laughing, Felix turned back to his seat and walked back. He looked over his shoulder at Jack and winked.

"Oh, yeah. I can't just let you have this. How about you catch Fischbach in... a month, say.  _Then_ I'll give you your job back." Giggling, Felix returned to his chair and sat down, kicking his legs back up on the desk. He waved his hand at Jack, who was grinning in delight at his new chance.

"Thank you, sir! I won't let you down!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, yeah," Felix said, waving his hand. "Go on then, McLoughlin. You've got a month." He pulled Jack's hat and badge towards himself and shooed Jack away.

"Thank you!" Jack cried out, turning to go. He waved as he ran out.

"One month, McLoughlin!" Felix yelled after him. 

* * *

Walking out of the police station, Jack breathed in the new air, and he could swear he smelt opportunity. But no, it was just the smell of exhaust fumes. Close enough.

Adrenaline burned through his veins. But where would Fischbach have gone? Jack sighed, feeling his heart drop. Maybe he wasn't guaranteed to get his job back after all.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jack kicked at the pavement. 

"What tha fuck am I gonna do?" he muttered to himself. People pushed past him, occasionally sparing him a confused glance at his lack of badge. 

Staring at the floor, Jack walked along the street and thought. He supposed this was the end of his career. Would Felix give him a good reference? Probably not. Maybe he would have to move town, change career, start all over. He sighed at the thought.

Suddenly, he felt hands wrap around him and pull him. Before he knew what was happening, he was standing in an alley, back pressed against a stranger, with a knife to his throat and a hand at his mouth.

"Make one peep and I kill you," a deep voice spoke at his ear. Jack's eyes widened. He knew that voice. Nodding furiously, he felt the person pull him further down the alley, and the further they went the faster his heart beat.

Eventually they were right at the end of the alleyway and Jack was released. Spitting and spinning wildly, he saw Mark leaning against the wall, spinning the knife in his fingers.

"You!" Jack spluttered out. Mark winked and continued spinning the knife.

"That's right. Thank you for your cooperation back there. I appreciate it."

"I didn't-"

Jack was interrupted by the knife whistling past him and lodging into the brick directly by his ear, only millimetres from stabbing into his flesh. Mark stood, hand outstretched, in the dart-throwing position. Straightening up, he dusted off his hands.

"I missed." he said evenly. Jack let out a small squeak. 

"Now listen here, greeny." Mark said, walking towards Jack and pulling the knife out from the wall. "I know what you're playing at. And I don't like it. I worked hard to get back out here, and I will not return to that fucking place," Mark spat angrily.

Jack nodded fearfully, swallowing. Mark held the point of the knife to his neck and Jack's heart rate doubled. 

"You understand me?" Mark asked, eyes narrowed. Jack nodded again, eyes directed at the knife. Mark nodded and slid the knife into his belt, keeping his eyes on Jack. 

"I don't want you coming to find me," Mark said as he walked away. 

"But... my job..." Jack said uselessly. Mark waved over his shoulder dismissively.

"Find yourself a new one," he said, turning round as he reached the end of the alley. "Oh, and you have a stain on your shirt. Makes you look even stupider than usual."

Jack glanced down at his shirt to check, but there was nothing there. When he looked back up, Mark was gone.

Swallowing slowly, Jack stared out, blinking. Shaking his head, he began to slowly walk out of the alley.

His heart didn't slow down until he was at his front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm gonna say quite a lot here.  
> My updating schedule might get a lot more infrequent. I have a lot to work on, which is one reason, and the other reason is I'm not really feeling up to it. I'm just a bit depressed and tired and sick and I can't handle all the things I need to do and I just need help and food and hugs and my fanfics are so bad why does anyone even read them? I'm such an annoying piece of shit and even all this must be annoying and I should stop but I can't. 
> 
> In short, sorry my schedule is all fucked up. I hope you enjoyed whatever this is. I'll try and update regularly.


	27. Lasers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You look hot dodging those lasers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thief AU!

"Oh, fuckin' hell," Jack cursed under his breath. His partner, Mark, nudged him to be quiet. They were standing, wearing all black, staring at a criss-cross intricate maze of lasers. Behind it was a pedestal, with a single diamond laying on top. 

Cursing under his breath again, Jack stepped over the first laser. Taking deep breaths, he began to twist his body, bending over and moving his arms to avoid the lasers. Meanwhile, Mark was examining something on the wall, and turned back to see Jack's ass pointed at him while Jack attempted to duck under a red beam.

 "Nice pose," Mark commented, folding his arms. Jack attempted to flip him the bird, but almost lost his balance. 

"Shut up," he replied, breathing heavily as he contorted his body. Mark watched the Irishman's lithe form twist and spring between the beams. His ass was defined by the tight black suit he was wearing, and the way he had to move was unintentionally sexual. 

"Get in here an' help!" Jack said, but his voice was made deeper by the exertion of twisting and bending so much. Mark locked his lips and folded his arms.

"I'm good here, thanks," Mark replied, tapping his foot gently. Attempting to not stare at Jack's ass or... somewhere else... he distracted himself by seeing how far the Irishman had left to twist himself. He was getting close to the diamond, just a few more metres...

Mark felt himself bite his cheek as he watched Jack. The man had to get into all kinds of positions to avoid the lasers, and Mark glanced over at the thing on the wall occasionally. His gaze was always drawn back to Jack, though, and he felt himself smiling. The tight black suit really accentuated his body.

"Those are some crazy positions you're pulling, lucky charms," Mark said, raising an eyebrow. Jack glared at him from through his legs. He was narrowly avoiding a lot of the lasers as it was.

Eventually, Jack reached the end and straightened up next to the pedestal, wincing as his back clicked. 

"Come on, then," he said to Mark, turning around and examining the small diamond. Behind him, he heard a buzz and a click, and turned back. Mark was standing by a small panel on the wall, grinning like an idiot with his finger on a button. The lasers had deactivated.

Jack watched him angrily as he strolled across the space, smirking. The redhead winked at Jack, who bit his tongue.

"Ya did that on purpose!" he burst out angrily. "Ya just wanted ta see me struggle!"

Mark laughed, and wiggled his eyebrows at Jack, before reaching out for the diamond. 

"Well, you did look rather good in those poses..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah this is so sloppily written I hate it but oh well, I hope you enjoyed this! Hopefully more coming soon, and not just on my oneshot collection (but obviously this won't be updated so regularly, probably once a week? Maybe twice if I have a good idea) so just keep an eye out if you like my fics! ^-^


	28. Beautiful Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I attempt some poetic description of Septiplier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is just me attempting to improve my description skills, you don't have to read it if you don't want to. It's just a simple little thing. ^-^

His eyes are like the ocean, full of promises and dreams. They're an orb of sky, of clouds and sunlight. They change with the light, from the deepest depths of the sea to the lightest of summer skies. They fade through all the different shades, never the same colour twice. His eyes are pools of hope, mirrors to reflect your wildest desires. His eyes are eternal, shining through the darkest of nights. His eyes are glimpses of a new future, a bright future, an unspoken future. His eyes are beautiful, just like him.

His hair shines in the light, reflecting green onto the walls. It looks like grass, perfectly soft, early grass covered in dew and unbroken by humans. His hair is like the newest moment of the world, where everything is pure and the grass isn't trampled. His hair is like leaves, filtering golden light through the canopies. His hair is like mint, like new hope and happiness. His hair is beautiful, just like him. 

His voice is lilting, with his thick accent. His voice is sweet, carrying so much emotion. His voice breaks, and cracks, and carries all his feelings on the wind. His voice is high, singing like a bird. His voice seems to dance, to twist and spin in the air. His voice is like a dove, soaring and gliding along the small breezes of the world. His voice sounds like an angel, sent from above. His voice is beautiful, just like him. 

* * *

His eyes are murky depths, pools of darkness you cannot fathom. When the sun hits them, they turn into swirling brilliance, like water in a river running over driftwood and stones. His eyes are like freshly turned earth after the rain. His eyes are hidden behind perfect glasses, glinting in the rays of the light. His eyes melt into golden rays, encircling an eclipse. His eyes change into a sunset of their own. His eyes are like a rich chocolate cake, oozing with promise and wonder. His eyes are so dark it's like staring into a void, but when they're in the light they turn into golden pools of happiness and dreams. His eyes are beautiful, just like him. 

His hair burns with the power of flames, ever-changing through the colours. At one time his hair was a void of messy darkness, ever-moving. At one time his hair was candyfloss, sweet as sugar and like a soft summer sunset. At one time his hair was the ocean, twisting and curling with the power of the waves. At one time, his hair was royal, purple like the deepest enchantments of the world. His hair is now fire and flames, hot and beautiful. It curves with danger, but promise and light. His hair is beautiful, just like him. 

His voice is like a demon, deep and husky. His voice is exquisite, unique and alone. His voice sends shivers through spines, gives goosebumps, raises hairs on the backs of necks. His voice hums through the air, creating it's own symphonies in its simple tones. His voice is beautiful, just like him.

* * *

Polar opposites, but just as beautiful.

The sky and the earth.

Grass and flames.

A symphony and a bird.

All just as beautiful.

Beautiful together.

 


	29. Let Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is always complaining about the noise from the flat above his own, where the crazy Irish man and his girlfriend live. But one day, the noise stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting a lot of these from prompts on Tumblr actually. Good place for prompts. 11/10 would browse again.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

Mark had always complained about the noise level. Nearly every day, he would climb the stairs (because the lift had been busted for years and rarely worked) and rap impatiently on the door. It would be opened by the giggling Irishman and his cute girlfriend, and they would apologise, and Mark would go downstairs, and it would begin again. 

 All the American really knew about his noisy upstairs neighbours was that the guy was Irish, had green hair, and was named Jack, his girlfriend was cute and they were loud. Every day, there'd be furniture shifting and loud talking and giggles and whispers and all kinds of stuff. Mark didn't even wanna imagine what happened up there.

The worst part by far was the music. Bands like Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy and Twenty One Pilots blasted out nearly constantly. Mark knew he wasn't the only one bothered by it, but he seemed to be the only one who complained. Then again, he was directly below it, and they seemed to play their music directly into the floor or something. 

Glaring at the ceiling as one of the songs started again, Mark massaged the bridge of his nose and adjusted his glasses. Pushing himself out of the comfy chair he had just settled down in, he marched out of his flat, stormed up the stairs and knocked firmly on the door.

It took some minutes for them to answer, and Mark had to knock twice more, each time louder than the last. Eventually the music turned down and the door creaked open, with Jack standing there.

"Oh, hi," he said sheepishly, seeing the look of anger on Mark's face. Mark tapped his foot and steeled himself.

"You're playing this damn music 24/7 at this point. I'm sick of it! It's all I ever hear! Not to mention you laughing and giggling and moving furniture. It's horrible trying to concentrate under this racket!"

"Yeah... sorry..." Jack replied, looking nervously at the ground. Mark glared at him and stormed back downstairs, and the door slowly closed.

The cycle continued for a week, with Mark getting angrier each time. As he heard them talking, though, he noticed a difference. Voices were raised more, they were angrier, they were having more arguments. And yet the music blasted on, the infernal music, throughout the whole thing. 

Until, one day, it just stopped.

Dead silence.

Mark noticed it when he woke up, noticed the eerie lack of noise. No music assaulted his ears, no yelling or laughing or anything. Just the tick of the clock and something ringing in his ears.

For the rest of the day, Mark kept expecting the noise to resume, was constantly on edge. He kept glancing at the ceiling, looking up to see when the noise would restart. 

The constant silence made him uneasy. It had never been this quiet since he had moved in, and it scared him. All day, he was waiting for the music to return, for the laughter to ring through the air, for  _something._

Nothing happened, all day.

That night, Mark was convinced he could hear someone crying upstairs. The tears continued for hours, quiet sobs leaking through to Mark's bedroom. Eventually the crying stopped, and Mark was left alone in the dark, to wonder what had happened.

The next day, Mark expected the music to come back, the laughter to return. It didn't. It was just as silent as before. 

That night, the crying returned. 

This cycle of silence in the day and tears at night continued for weeks, which turned into months. Every day Mark waited for the noise to return, and it never did. Occasionally, Mark would see Jack on the stairs. He never smiled any more, and tear tracks often marked his face.

One day, about a month after this strange silence, Mark couldn't take it any more. Shoving his phone into his pocket, Mark ran out his flat and began to walk up the stairs. When he got to the top, he knocked on the door.

No reply.

He knocked again, sighing, but no one answered. Frowning now, Mark started to knock frantically. He knew Jack wasn't out, as he had seen him go upstairs and not come back down. 

"Jack?" Mark called through the keyhole. 

"Go away," came the muffled response.

Mark sighed and knocked again, but nothing happened.

"Jack, cmon. Let me in. I want to know what's happening. I've been knocking for ten minutes, just let me in already!"

There was silence, and then some shuffling. The door cracked open, and Mark caught a glimpse of Jack's tearstained face. He attempted to smile weakly, and the door creaked open. 

Jack stood there, in a hoodie and sweatpants, glaring at Mark. Tear marks were evident on his round face, and his bushy eyebrows were pulled together.

"What do ya want?" he asked, voice cracking. Mark's face softened.

"I just want to talk." He replied softly. Jack looked away and turned around, beginning to walk back in.

"Come on, then," the Irishman said, sighing. Mark entered, looking about him in wonder. He had never been inside the man's home before, and it was fascinating.

Clothes, old food boxes and general rubbish littered the floor. Mark accidentally kicked a takeaway carton and couldn't help squeaking as leftovers oozed over his foot.

"Don't mind tha mess," Jack said as he continued to walk, correctly guessing what Mark was squeaking about. Following him, Mark found himself in what appeared to be a living room, ankle-deep in general debris. A sofa sat in the room, facing a table with a TV and video game systems. Shelves stacked up against the wall held DVDS, video games and miscellaneous things. Mark could tell that if it was cleaned up, the place would be a rather pleasant little home, not unlike his own flat downstairs. 

Jack sank into the sofa, tucking his legs up beneath him. Mark stood awkwardly in the sea of rubbish, twisting his hands.

"Oh, right, be a good host," Jack muttered, more to himself than to Mark, as he rose once more from the sofa. He signalled at Mark to sit down, and the older man obeyed, as Jack disappeared into another room.

"What do ya want ta drink?" Jack called through the door.

"I don't mind, whatever you have."

Mark sat awkwardly on the sofa, looking about him. The room was disgusting, but Mark could tell that with a good clean, everything would be set to rights.

Jack returned with two glasses, full up with water.

"Sorry I don't have anything fancier," Jack said sheepishly as he handed Mark his water. Mark giggled a little and took a sip. It wasn't too bad, honestly. 

"It's fine. Thank you." 

"So, ya came here ta talk, huh? Talk about what?" Jack asked as he sank once more into the sofa. Mark pointedly kicked away a t-shirt by his foot and Jack sighed.

"Right, so ya wanna know why my house is such a tip?"

"And why you never seem to be happy any more. And why there are eternal tearstains on your cheeks. And-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Jack sighed and stared into his glass. "Well, ya know how a couple months ago, I stopped playin' music an' bein' loud?" Mark nodded intently, looking interestedly at Jack. "Well, my... uh... well, my girlfriend broke up with me."

"Oh, no..." Mark whispered, gripping his glass tight. 

"Yeah. Sucked. Well, I kinda lost it after that. Went a little crazy. I've just kinda been wanderin' around tha town, hopin' I'd see her an' we could talk it out. I never did. She deleted my number, never spoke ta me again. I don't know what I did wrong."

"So, have you recovered at all?"

"Nah, not really. I've been livin' off takeaways an' chips. Haven't really had tha money for a proper shoppin' trip. I haven't really bothered ta clean up, either. No one here ta get bothered by it. Except me, of course, but I don't care." 

Jack sat back on the sofa and suddenly looked a whole lot older. Mark felt something in his heart click for this heartbroken Irishman, and stood up suddenly. 

"Oh, are ya leavin' already?" Jack asked, looking up sadly. Mark placed his glass down on the table in front of him, and walked through the door where Jack had gotten their water. 

Opening up the cupboards, Mark saw that they were truly bare. An old, lone pack of instant noodles was at the back, but when Mark checked the packaging he saw that it had expired years ago. Throwing it away in disgust, he saw Jack standing at the door, watching him work. 

Mark opened the fridge and found only a few things left. A small amount of milk, a tiny block of cheese and a pack of carrots for no apparent reason. Sighing, Mark turned around and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head at Jack. 

"You haven't been taking very good care of yourself, have you?"

Jack shook his head slowly. Mark rolled his eyes and began to walk back down the hall towards the front door.

"Oh, so ya are leavin' now?" Jack asked quietly. Mark looked at him and felt a little piece of his heart crumble, looking at this broken man in front of him.

"I'll come back soon," he promised, smiling. Jack smiled back, and waved a tiny bit as Mark left.

Once Mark was outside, he began to run down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

* * *

About two hours later, Mark was struggling up the stairs under the weight of a lot of bags. Cursing Jack for living on the top floor, he strained himself up what felt like hundreds of stairs, until he finally reached Jack's flat, where he placed the bags on the floor and rang the doorbell.

The door opened quite promptly this time, and revealed Jack in sleepwear, with sticking up hair. He was dishevelled and sleepy, and Mark grinned at him all the same.

"What's all this?" Jack asked as Mark picked all the bags up and walked past him into the kitchen. 

"Food!" Mark replied simply.

"Mark, I told ya, I don't have tha money-"

"It's on me." Mark said quietly. Jack blinked as Mark started to unpack the bags. Countless tins of tomatoes, vegetables, all kinds of things. Bottles of milk, blocks of cheese, boxes of ready meals and everything he would need to survive on a good diet. Bottles of fresh water, lemonade, wine (but only small amounts), all kinds were pulled out of the bags and placed on the sides. As Jack watched, Mark began to put everything in a place, making sure all the cupboards were neat and tidy.

"What do ya mean?" Jack asked once Mark was brushing his hands off, six bags worth of food unpacked and put away.

"I mean, I'm helping out a friend. Now, you've got food, so it's time to do something about all this." Mark said, indicating the layer of garbage on the floor and the dirt on many of the surfaces. Going back down the hall and disappearing downstairs, Mark returned within a few minutes with countless bottles of cleaning products.

As soon as he got in, Mark handed Jack a bottle of surface cleaner and a cloth, and instructed him to clean the sides. Confused, Jack began wiping down the kitchen surfaces, while Mark tackled the mess in the living room.

The two men worked in virtual silence for a few minutes, until Jack suggested they put on some music. Mark rolled his eyes, but agreed, and Jack turned on his stereo. The familiar beats of Twenty One Pilots began to play, and Mark sighed but continued to pick up and trash all the rubbish on the floor.

After several straight hours of working, the living room and kitchen were sparkling clean, and Mark knew all the lyrics to loads of new songs. 

Maybe Jack's music wasn't so bad after all.

After leaving the living room sparkling and beautifully neat, everything in its proper place, Mark moved on to the bathroom. 

Scrubbing away at the bathtub, both of them singing along loudly to This Is Gospel, Mark could feel a strange bond connecting the two of them. Something not unlike a friendship. Well, it's hard to hate each other when one of you sacrifices time and money to get the other one out of bad times. That kind of thing just brings you together.

* * *

Every day that week, Mark returned upstairs to Jack's flat. Over time, the flat went from an ankle-deep-in-rubbish dirty tip, to a perfectly clean, beautifully decorated home where Jack could be happy. 

"Sit down," Mark said to Jack, guiding him towards the sofa. Mark had barely slept in the past few days, and he looked dead on his feet. "I'll make you something to drink and eat. You just relax."

"But I don't want you to do too much-" Jack tried to protest.

"No, it's fine!" Mark laughed, although he was swaying slightly where he stood. "I want to help you feel better." 

Walking through into the restocked kitchen, Mark found a box of coffee and began making Jack a cup of coffee.

Assuming Jack took it black, Mark finished the cup and began piecing together a peanut butter sandwich on a plate. Throughout all this, his eyes kept drooping, and he kept having to jerk himself awake. Eventually he walked back through with the plate and mug on a tray, and placed it down on Jack's lap.

"Sit down, Mark," Jack said worriedly, seeing Mark pacing back and forth. "You've overworked yourself in the past week. You need a break."

"But there's still so much to do!" Mark replied frantically, biting his nails. 

"You're driving yourself crazy, Mark. You need a day off."

Sinking into the sofa next to Jack, Mark sighed. 

"Maybe you're right."

"See? I'm always-"

Looking over at Mark, Jack giggled. His eyes were already shut, and he was already in a deep sleep.

* * *

Mark awoke, still on the sofa, but he was lying there instead of sitting. On the table in front of him was a plate with a fresh sandwich, some water and a note. Reaching out, Mark realised he was covered with a blanket that smelt of Jack's aftershave. A pillow was underneath his head, but his glasses were still on his nose. 

Grabbing the note and reading it, Mark felt his face melt into a smile, and he snuggled back down into the sofa, removing his glasses and putting them down. He could sleep happy.

Hey, sleepyhead!

Have gone out to the town to attempt this "socialising" thing. Not sure when I'll be back, but try and get some more sleep. It's the least I can do, let you use my sofa to sleep. I've made you some food, but help yourself to anything. After all, you paid! 

See you soon,

Jack :)

* * *

When Jack returned, he came home to Mark snuggled down on his sofa, fast asleep. A small smile was on his face, and the note was disturbed, with Mark's glasses on the table, so Jack knew he had awoken. 

Sitting down next to him, Jack adjusted the blanket on top of him and felt Mark shift. His eyes blinked open, and Jack pulled his hand back.

"Hello,"

"Oh, yer awake?"

"Hehe, yeah. Just woke up now, actually. Thank you for your note."

"It's alright. Like I said, it's tha least I can do." 

"I guess I needed sleep more than I realised."

"I knew it! I'm always right, ya see."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yup!"

"What's seven thousand, six hundred and three to the power of nine?"

"Fuck, I don't know! I said I was always right, not that I know everything!"

"Heh."

"Heh.

"I don't know either, so it's okay."

"Mark?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you. For helping me. Thanks."

Mark smiled softly. 

"It was the least I could do. Besides, thank YOU."

"Why? I haven't done anything."

"Thank you for letting me in."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, I don't know where this went. It was all over the place but I honestly love it. I hope you liked it too ^-^  
> Not very keen on the ending, I think it could use work. Not sure about that bit. Otherwise I think it played out really well! :D


	30. Criminal Offence ~Part 3~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack continues to search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy! Back again! I have a somewhat plan for this, but there'll probably be a lot of filler.

Sighing, Jack pushed the door open and walked into his house, flicking the lights on and flopping down on his sofa. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, and lay back. Today had been stressful, and he just wanted to relax. 

Sitting up after a few minutes, he switched on the TV and stood up, walking into the kitchen to fix some dinner. The news flicked onto the screen while he was microwaving scrambled eggs, and words drifted through from the living room. 

"Dangerous criminal... Incompetence of... police... fired... "

Jack stiffened and walked through to the living room again. A news reporter sat on screen, shuffling some papers and talking. A photo of Jack in his police uniform next to Mark's mugshot photo were behind him. 

"Long story short, murderer Mark Fischbach has escaped from jail thanks to ex-officer Jack McLaughlin. The officer was found chained in a cell, with Fischbach nowhere to be seen. McLaughlin has been fired from his pos-"

Jack clicked onto a different channel and stared at the floor mindlessly. It was already everywhere on the news. Of course it was. 

The microwave beeped, but Jack didn't move. Eventually he walked back into the kitchen and removed the eggs from the microwave, but he simply tipped them into the bin instead. 

He had lost his appetite. 

* * *

The next day, Jack woke up happy. That was before he remembered. Pulling his arms close to his chest, he stared hard at the duvet covering his legs. A single year dripped from his eye and he sighed. No reason to get out of bed. 

Wiping away a second tear, Jack lay back down and pulled the duvet over his head until he fell asleep again. 

When he woke for the second time, he pushed himself out of bed and reached for his uniform, which he normally kept on the back of his chair. When he realised it wasn't there, he sighed and rummaged in his wardrobe for some normal clothes. 

Once he was dressed, he walked downstairs and stood in the kitchen, lost. After a few seconds, he blinked and his stomach rumbled. Walking slowly to the cupboards, he opened them up and began fixing a bowl of cereal. 

Flopping on the sofa, he switched on the TV and found some old episodes of Gravity Falls. Settling down with his cereal, he realised how weird it felt to not be at the station. It was like it was a holiday. A permanent holiday. 

* * *

After a little while, Jack stood up and turned off the TV. He left the cereal bowl sitting on the side, not bothering to clean it up. Grabbing his keys and phone, he stepped outside and locked the house. 

Taking a deep breath, he started walking down the street, his heart racing. He felt like everyone was staring at him, laughing at the failed police officer. He tried to keep his head down and his eyes low, ignoring everyone. 

He wasn't entirely sure what he was meant to be doing in order to capture Mark, and that made him feel even worse. The criminal could be halfway across the world by now. It was a pointless chase. 

Feeling like dropping to the floor right then and there, Jack instead wheeled around and headed back the way he came. After a few paces, he came across a small coffee shop he often liked to visit. 

Pushing the door open, a pleasant bell sounded. The shop was quite empty at this point, which allowed Jack to nod at the baristas for his usual and plop down in a seat. 

Resting his head and arms on the table, Jack sighed. He was a failure, a figure of ridicule and a reject. His eyes were drooping shut when he heard a tray clatter against a table. 

Looking up, he saw his usual waitress bringing him his usual - a large black coffee with donuts, what a stereotypical policeman. Smiling at the woman as she left with the tray, Jack tried to recall her name. He could've sworn it was Signe, and he thought that had circumstances been different, he might have dated her. 

After finishing his coffee and food, he handed over some money to the girl at the counter and left, the bell sounding again. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he began walking along the pavement again, eyes trained on the floor. 

* * *

Jack spent the rest of the day searching for Mark, looking in all the shadiest places he could think of. Dark alleys, criminal pubs, all the darkest places of the city. He was jeered at a lot, and the criminals mocked him, knowing he no longer held power over them. 

By 4pm, he was losing hope. 

By sundown he had admitted defeat. 

Mark seemed to be absolutely nowhere in the city, and Jack was certain he wouldn't have stuck around. He would go to the Sergeant in the morning and report his failure. 

As he walked home, Jack pondered the amount of ridicule he would go through. How long would his failure last? How long before it was all forgotten? 

He knew, of course, he would have to go after a different career. Sergeant Kjellburg would never give him any recommendations, and the entire country had probably heard about his defeat. Maybe he could go work at McDonalds. How degrading. 

When he reached home, he pulled out his keys and put them to the lock. As he did so, he had a strange feeling, and pulled at the door. It opened with ease. 

His heart hammering, Jack walked through, looking around him. The house seemed empty.

"H-hello?" he stammered. As he listened, he heard sounds of a game from his living room. Light shine from the gap under the door. 

Hanging his jacket on a peg by the door, Jack crept through the hallway. The noises grew louder as he walked closer, and he started to hear bags rustling and things like that. 

Eventually he reached the door to the living room, and pushed it open with a quiet creak. The sounds of a video game assaulted his ears and he blinked as he took in the scene. 

Sat amidst a nest of food, drinks, blankets and game controllers, playing a game aggressively, waving to Jack as he pushed the door open, was Mark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been such a long time coming! I've had a lot of stuff to deal with but I hope you all enjoyed this! I tried to make it as long as possible to make up for it! ^-^


	31. The Video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is going through items left to him after Mark died, and finds a video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has death but its not described or anything, its just said.   
> Sorry this hasn't been updated in so long.   
> I've had a lot of stuff to work out. 
> 
> Hope you like it. 
> 
> (taken from a Tumblr prompt)

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Jack brought the box down from the shelf. 

It had been a week since Mark died in the hospital, and a day since his funeral. Jack was left with an empty house, a lonely Chica, all of Mark's furniture and a large box of personal artefacts, that he had stored on a shelf, hardly bearing to look at them. 

Now, though, he placed the box on the floor and sat down next to it, mentally preparing himself for an overload of memories of his dead boyfriend. 

He lifted out books, games, headphones, clothes, all kinds of things. Marks favourite hoodie still smelled vaguely like him, and Jack held it close, inhaling the scent of his lover, before slipping it over his head. 

"Oh, Mark," he said as he went through item after item, each one sending a sharp jab of pain through him, as though these were parts of Mark he had before him. In a way, they were. 

All kinds of items came out of the box, including a photograph of Mark and Jack the day they became boyfriends. The utter joy on their face was clear. Jack was looking at the camera, a massive grin on his face, and Mark was looking at Jack with so much love and affection, it was amazing Jack had never seen it before. 

A tear dripped onto the glass and Jack wiped it away hurriedly. He had been doing a pretty good job of keeping in his tears so far, but the photo was too much.

Near the bottom of the box, he found a DVD. It was labelled "Failed Attempt", and nothing else. 

Curious, Jack picked it up and walked over to his TV. Slotting it into the DVD player, he switched it on and sat down on the sofa, preparing himself for whatever he saw. 

On the screen, Mark was adjusting the camera, and Jack stared longingly at him. The American stepped back from the camera and took a deep breath, before taking something out from his pocket. 

A tiny black box. 

Jack felt something twinge in his gut and sat forwards, leaning towards the screen as though he could somehow fall in. 

Mark swallowed and got down on one knee, facing the camera. He carefully opened the box, revealing a glittering emerald ring. 

Feeling something in his heart shatter a little more, the tears began rolling down Jack's cheeks. He could hardly believe what was happening, and that was before Mark began to talk. 

_Ahem... This is weird. Come on Mark, just imagine its him._

**Mark shifted his stance, taking another deep breath.**

_Would you, Sean William McLoughlin, do me the honour... No, too formal. Hey, I've been in love with you for a while and I think I want to... too casual. Damn it, why is it so hard to think of a proposal speech, for fucks sake? What do people even say when they propose? Aside from yes, which will hopefully happen here._

**Standing up again, Mark examined the ring, sighing as he turned it each way. He was proud of the ring, having had it custom-made to look like a septic eye.**

**He shook his head and got down on one knee again, smiling.**

_Sean William McLoughlin, I love you. And I want to be with you forever. Will you.. marry me?_

**Mark stood up, nodding. He grinned and moved to turn the camera off. Just before it blinked into blackness, Jack heard one last thing.**

_Now its just a question of asking him._

The video blinked off. 

Jack sat there, shell shocked, eyes wide and hazy with tears. He wondered how long before Mark's death this had been filmed, how long he had been planning the perfect moment. 

Slowly rising from the sofa, Jack returned to the box and sat down by it, hardly daring to touch it any more.

After a few minutes, he looked inside, at the now near empty box. Right at the bottom, tucked in the corner, was a familiar item, one Jack had just seen. 

A tiny black box. 

With shaking hands, he reached inside and cracked it open. Inside sat a sparkling ring, emeralds and sapphires painstakingly crafted to look just like a septiceye. 

Jack felt his eyes well up again, and he clicked the box shut with trembling fingers. Holding it close to his chest, he bowed his head and spoke, partly to the ring and partly to Mark, wherever he was. 

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't work it out, italics is Mark speaking. 
> 
> Hope this was a good update, and sorry it took so long to arrive, hehe.


	32. The Panel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark leaves a little something on Jack.
> 
> WARNING: Mild smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah I'm so inactive sorryyyyy 
> 
> Anyway, have this, possibly the smuttiest thing I've ever written (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"M-Mark!"

The two men sat on the hotel bed, Mark almost sitting on top of Jack. The Irishman shuddered as Mark nipped away at his neck, biting and sucking at it. 

"Mark... I..."

Jack interrupted himself to let out a quiet moan, covering his mouth quickly. Mark looked up at him, eyes full of lust, and gave him a devilish smirk.

"Mark, we have ta go.."

Jack breathed heavily as he tried to push Mark gently away, but the larger of the two just pushed him backwards so he was lying on the bed. 

"Don't complain, you know you love it."

Jack couldn't reply to that, partly because he was trying to focus and partly because Mark wasn't  _letting_ him focus. The American continued to bite at Jacks neck, leaving purplish marks that wouldn't disappear fast. The Irishman was pinned to the bed, unable to move, and his eyes were half closed. 

"Mark-" Jack cried as Mark touched on a particularly sensitive point. Grinning, Give redhead began to attack that exact point, biting and marking it mercilessly. 

Just as Jack couldn't take it any more, Mark removed his lips from Jack's neck. He stood up, allowing Jack to get up as well. 

"Mark?"

Turning to face Jack again, Mark smiled. Purple bruises and marks littered Jack's neck, and there was no doubt that there could be any confusion as to what they were. 

"Don't we have a panel to go to?"

Smirking, Mark began to walk away, swinging his hips seductively. Jack rushed to the bathroom and stared at his reflection angrily. 

"Mark, ya jerk! I can't go ta a panel like this!"

Hurrying back out of the bathroom, Jack saw Mark, preparing to leave. He looked immaculate, as though nothing had happened. 

"Come on, or we'll be late." the redhead said, casting a glance at Jack.

"Ya can't do this ta me, man!" Jack replied angrily, gesturing at his neck. Mark simply shrugged, gave a devilish smirk and opened the hotel door.

"We have to go. They'll be waiting!~"

* * *

 "And I wouldn't- wait a minute."

Jack, Mark, Bob and Wade sat at their panel, talking. Frowning, Wade pointed at Jack's neck, which he had tried so hard to keep hidden. 

_fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,_ Jack thought, turning red. 

"Are those... hickeys?"

Shaking his head violently, Jack clapped his hands over his neck, making a mental note to kill Mark and possibly Wade after the panel. 

"They are!" Bob exclaimed, chuckling. Jack felt himself turn bright red and he snuck a glance at Mark, who was sitting back in his seat, smiling smugly. 

Fans whispered among themselves, all of them trying to sneak a look at Jacks neck. The Irishman stared furiously at the table, feeling his ears go red. 

This was gonna take a while. 

* * *

By the end of the panel, Jack was sick of everyone muttering about his hickeys. The topic didn't seem to go away, so he ended up having to go and get a hoodie to cover himself up. 

After it was over, Jack stormed down a corridor, followed by Mark, who was strolling after him lazily. 

The American walked along, whistling, and looked around for Jack, who had disappeared around a corner. There seemed to be no one there, but then he felt someone grab his shirt and pull him into a cupboard. 

He found himself nose-to-nose with Jack, enclosed in a tiny storage closet. There was barely room to move, and Mark saw a devious smirk on Jack's face. 

Leaning in close to Marks ear, Jack nipped at the other man's neck and purred sexily in his ear. 

" _My turn._ "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh didn't that heat up! Not sure if I like it or not but sorry its so short, and I'll try to get back to regular uploads! 
> 
> Love you cuties!


	33. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of The Panel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Did you miss me? Sorry I've been so inactive recently, theres been a lot of stuff I've had to deal with and I just haven't felt up to writing <3  
> I'm on my laptop for once so yay me!  
> I know you probably don't care but I had my birthday recently! I mostly got Dan and Phil merch lmao
> 
> No but apologies for inactivity, I'm gonna try and improve on that, but I might still not be very good :/  
> I mean I procrastinate every aspect of my life so thats not a good sign
> 
> Enjoy another chapter of mild sin! :D
> 
> (oh and side note I got a girlfriend who I'm very happy and gay with, she was my best friend but we both had crushes on each other, and I've had my first proper kiss (aka make out session) and she gave me a hickey I had to hide from my father so that was fun, but at least I can write more realistically now and not just use my imagination!)

Mark felt Jack's hot breath run down his neck, and a shiver of pleasure ran through him. Soft lips traced the creases and contour of his neck and jawline, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along the way. The ghost of Jack's mouth sent shivers down Mark's spine, causing him to bite his lip. Jack paused and looked at Mark from under his eyelashes, seductively pulling him in, and Mark had never felt so turned on. Jack hadn't even started kissing his neck properly. What was happening?

All of a sudden, Mark felt Jack's mouth clamp down on his neck, kissing and sucking at it like he was trying to suck his blood, and Mark liked it. Really, really liked it. His breathing became heavier, and he felt his dick twitch in his pants. Jack kept his gaze on Mark, as though he was always asking for permission from the larger man, as he bit down on Mark's neck. 

" _Jack-"_ Mark heard himself say, not even registering how low and husky his voice was, how aroused he sounded, how aroused he  _was._

However, Jack did register it.

He let out a soft giggle, bringing his mouth away from Mark's neck and assessing the damage. Purplish hickeys were blooming along Mark's neck, and Jack grinned, gently kissing Mark on the nose. The taller man was left gasping for breath.

"Did ya like that~?" Jack asked sexily.

"You know I did." Mark said, trying not to let Jack know just how much he liked it. 

"A lot more fun when its happening to you, hm?" The shorter man giggled and suddenly bit down hard on Marks neck. He moaned out, covering his mouth to stifle his noises. 

One of Jacks slim hands worked its way around to the front of Marks pants, and began stroking through the thick fabric. Mark felt himself get more and more turned on, his erection becoming painful. 

"Jack.. Just..."

"Just what, Markimoo?"

"Stop teasing!" Mark moaned, eyes shut in pleasure as Jack sucked on and bit his neck.

Immediately, Jack took his hands away from Mark. He took his mouth off the larger man's neck with a grin and wiped saliva off his chin. 

"Alright then. We should get back to the others."

Jack opened the supply closet door and stepped out, leaving Mark breathless and horny behind him. Without turning around, Jack spoke.

"Oh, and you have some rather large marks on your neck. Might wanna cover those up before someone sees them and assumes things. Cmon now!"

With a slight giggle, Jack started walking off, swinging his hips and leaving Mark in the closet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was not mild sin. 
> 
> Please keep reading my stuff. Much appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Oopsie, this turned out a whole lot sadder than I expected. As you might guess, I don't have a plan for anything, so this kinda just happened, I guess.
> 
> Hehe, sorry for the feels X3


End file.
